


oddmanout

by surveycorpsjean



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Multi, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7499286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surveycorpsjean/pseuds/surveycorpsjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's weird enough for Lance to be hardcore crushin' on one teammate, let alone two, let alone two in a <em> goddamn relationship</em>. </p>
<p>Except, uh, they like him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fml im obsessed w this ot3

It took Lance a while to come to terms with the whole…not so straight thing.

At first it was just Shiro, because honestly, who  _isn’t_ attracted to Shiro? Especially when he walks around shirtless in the showers, or commands the team in that deep, impressive tone _._  Lance was cool with it. He’s just 99% straight, and that 1% is Shiro. That shit happens, right?

Well, of course, Keith just had to come in and fuck it all up. Keith, with his dumb pretty eyes and his dumb pretty hair. It took Lance a really,  _really_ long time to admit that the boners during sparring practice weren’t just a heat of the moment thing. Erm, especially when Lance found himself watching Keith do mundane things, like sip his tea and wipe down his sword, eyes focused, sleeves rolled up to his shoulders.

Ah, yeah. Not so 99% anymore.  _Bisexual_ was more the term he was looking for. Lance slowly learned to be okay with it.

People have multiple crushes all the time! Hell, Lance was still hella crushing on Allura.

Except, erm, Lance came to understand the extreme differences between the two. Lance wanted to kiss the princess. Woo her, maybe? Hold her hand.

Lance wanted Keith and Shiro to  _destroy him._

Lance is concerned for his own mental health. He’s blaming the space food.

* * *

 

There’s nothing worse than that gross, bubbly feeling that grows in the pit of your stomach when you’ve fucked up.

In this case, it happens the day that Lance sees them, Shiro and Keith, snuggly and happy on the couches of the common room area. Shiro’s arm drapes across his shoulders, Keith smiles like Lance has never seen.

It feels like a knife in your chest, a hand at your throat, a kick to the gut. Fuck, it hurts – to see that Lance has lost  _both_ of the people he’s fallen so disgustingly hard for. He runs that day, back to his room, to curl up in blankets and place his hands over his ears.

It becomes common knowledge that they’re dating.

Lance is all smiles and teasing nudges, silly eyebrow wiggles and funny jabs. Shiro rolls his eyes, Keith barks back.

Lance’s chest hurts.

* * *

 

“Watch it!” Keith yells, standing up from the ground. He pats the side of his head, just to feel for any burns.

“I’m watching it!” Lance shouts back, “I protected you, didn’t I?”

“Guys, come on.” Pidge sighs, “We were doing so well.”

Keith grits his teeth – turns because he doesn’t actually want to put up a fight. They  _are_ improving, slowly, as a team.

The drones circle around them – Hunk is the first to take a blast, and fall through the floor. Lance watches the bot fly to his left, one above him as well. He can see it circling towards Shiro – he dives to take the blast with his shield, then another.

Pidge goes next – dammit, Lance forgot to watch his right. Keith curses behind him; he continues to block more blasts with his shield. They black up closer, heels pressing together, almost. Lance can feel his breath laboring already.

“Fuck.” Lance grits, and blocks a blast from nailing Keith in the thigh, “Why does this have to be so hard?”

“It’s supposed to simulate real combat!” Coran bellows over the speakers – the paladins sigh.

There’s another bot that flies, buzzing with blue light. Lance’s eyes narrow in; he can see exactly where it’s going to shoot. He dives, arm stretching out his shield to cover Shiro’s midriff. Ah, but he underestimates the trajectory, and takes a shot to the shoulder.

There’s a call of  _Lance!_ but he’s sucked through the floor. Game over  _again._

He can already see Pidge and Hunk gathering themselves up, dusting off their pants, popping joints back into place from the fall. Lance groans; he smooshes his face in his hands and breathes out the frustration. Keith falls into the room next, cursing the day to kingdom come, before Shiro falls after.

Coran calls through the speaker, “Great job team! You made it thirty seconds longer than last time!”

They unanimously groan.

“Man.” Pidge sighs, “Technically it would take  _years_ of teamwork and practice to reach the level of the past paladins.”

“We don’t have years.” Keith grits, “We need to be better  _now._ ”

“Patience.” Shiro calls, smooth and pretty as he stands. Lance swallows – watches the way Keith’s eyes smooth over, and his shoulders relax. Keith pops off his helmet; Lance is momentarily distracted by the way his hair falls around his face.

“Lance.”

He jumps, turning to Shiro – who still looks so attractive, even with the sweat rolling down the curve of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“I saw that block you did to ‘save me’.” He grins, “That was pretty brave of you.”

“I uh..” Lance laughs, and rubs behind his head, “I was expecting to catch that with my shield. But I’ll take the credit anyways.”

“Still, it was a great dive.” Shiro clasps him on the shoulder, and fuck,  _fuck,_ Lance’s entire body runs warm. Shiro’s eyes are still on him, round and beautiful, and Lance’s egotistical attitude dies in his throat.

“Er…thanks.”

“You would’ve died anyways.” Keith pipes, “So whats it matter? You’re supposed to save yourself  _and_ your teammates.”

Lance blurts, face feeling hot, “Shut it, Keith!”

Keith raises his hands defensively; the palm on Lance’s shoulder leaves, and he can finally breathe again.

* * *

 

Lance catches them in the showers afterwards. It seems they had waited until Hunk and Pidge were out – they must’ve assumed Lance went with them too.

But no, Lance walks in, towel over his shoulder, and sees Keith hoisted up by his thighs, pressed against the adjacent wall, arms around Shiro’s neck as he sighs. Shiro holds him still, face buried somewhere between Keith’s shoulder and throat.

Lance’s body is forced still from shock, breath sucking in and not breathing out. He forces a hand over his mouth – braces the other in the doorway.

Keith and Shiro are so…not secret, but, private, about their love life. They’re respectful. They hold back the PDA. So, Lance stands there, heart twisting and turning because oh my  _god_ they look so gorgeous together. How long have they been doing this? Here? Against the shower wall?

Lance turns on his heel and doesn’t shower until early morning.

* * *

 

“Lance?”

“Hm?” He turns away from the balcony, eyes blinking away their blurriness.

“I made food, yo.” Hunk gestures with his thumb.

Lance grins, “You’re the best, bro.”

“Er…” Hunk shifts on his feet, hands twisting behind his back, “Real…uh. Real quick question.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you doin’ okay?”

Lance blinks, and blinks again. He tries to look taken back, “Me?”

“Yeah man, you’ve been kinda’ distant.”

“ _Me?!_ ” Lance sputters a laugh, and claps him on the shoulder. “I think you’ve been eatin’ too much space food, buddy.”

“So everything’s cool?”

 “Bro.” Lance gestures to himself, cocky grin and all, “Do I look like somethings wrong?”

Hunk rolls his eyes, elbows him for good measure, and begins walking towards the kitchen again. “That ego is gonna’ get you in trouble one day.”

“Stop listening to everything Shiro says.” Lance teases, and slaps Hunk on the back as he walks. Something in his chest tightens once more, like a wind up toy box.

* * *

 

Time is really hard to tell here, in the castle. Between fighting off goons, and training to fight  _more_ goons, it’s easy for time to just slip by.

It feels like a while has passed since Keith and Shiro started dating, or whatever. Lance still wants to kiss Keith after they fight. He still wants to press his fingers into Shiro’s abs, and feel those arms around his shoulders. But it’s okay. Lance grins and moves on – he’s water, isn’t he? Adaptable?

Except, something is wrong. Something has  _changed._

It started with the small things, like Shiro grabbing his shoulder. It  _started_ with just the shoulder, but now it’s become the nape of his neck, the curve of his lower back, his left hip-

Each friendly tap after battle sends Lance  _reeling._ And for fucks sake, it’s so not cool to lust after someone in a relationship, but Shiro is making this really, really hard.

Keith too, goddammit! It seems like he’s decided to forgo wearing shirts completely, especially during training. He never dries his hair after the shower anymore, instead walking around half naked, hair dripping, water slipping down the curves of his back.

Lance. Is losing. His goddamn. Mind.

During dinner one night, Keith’s thigh brushes against his own as he stands. Lance nearly chokes, ignoring the look from Pidge.

After successfully forming Voltron, and kicking major ass, Shiro ruffles his hair and pulls him into a side hug, all warm presses of body heat and comforting vibes, before pulling away with a handsome smile.

Even during missions, when Lance somehow manages to land a right kick, there’s a call of  _“Great job, Lance,” -_ and it’s not from Shiro.

Lance stands in the shower, the water turned to cold, forehead pressed up against the tile. He mumbles to himself, eyes squeezed shut.

He’s  _imagining_ it. The heat in their touches. The smiles in encouraging words. They’re just happy – happy that they have each other, and they’re rubbing their gross couple-y  vibes all over everyone else.

_Stop_ it Lance  _stop it._ Stop holding in your breath every time you pass them. Stop thinking about them at night.  _Stop!_ As much as you try, and try, the world doesn’t revolve around  _you._

He breathes in, and out. At times like these, he’d talk to his mom. No matter how busy the family was, she’d always,  _always_ be there if he needed help.

The homesickness, combined with the squeeze around his heart, makes Lance smack his forehead against the tile one last time.

* * *

 

“This is so not fair.” Lance grits, forced onto his knees, arm pulled behind his back.

He can  _hear_ Keith’s smugness, dammit. “Keep up.” He lets go of Lance’s arm, and the latter slumps, catching his breath.

“How about I hand you a gun?” Lance snaps, “See how good you do with Shiro’s head on the chopping block.”

Keith doesn’t let the comment get to him, instead, placing a hand on his hip and smirking, “Making excuses, now?”

“No.” Lance huffs. He stands up straight, wipes the sweat from his brow, and brings his arms up into a defensive positon. He focuses on Keith’s body language – tries not to think about how pretty his face is. “Come at me, shitty hair.”

Keith makes the first move, Lance manages to doge. Except, Keith is quicker on his feet, more agile. He comes in with a left hook, and Lance barley blocks the fist with his forearm. He tries to swing with his left, but he’s much slower.

Lance huffs out frustration, breathes out hard air. Keith easily swipes out his leg, and Lance falls. Ah, but if he’s going down, this fucker is going with him – because he grabs on, and pulls Keith down too.

The fight falls to the mats, a harmony of labored breathes and pained grunts. Lance gets a thigh around Keith’s hips – manages to flip them once, before Keith uses his damn upper body strength to flip them again. His knees lock Lance in place; he sits up with a cocky grin.

“Gotcha’.”

“Fuck!” Lance pants, head smacking back to the mat, chest heaving with effort.

“You’re awful at this.” Keith says, wiggling a little on Lance’s la- _aaap fuck. Fuck!_

Lance tries to squirm out from beneath him, but Keith keeps him locked between his thighs. He raises an eyebrow.

“Just you wait.” Lance pouts, “One day I’ll kick your ass.”

“Then get good, scrub.”

Lance gasps, and then surges upwards, hands reaching to punch him, or strangle him,  or like, totally not grab around his firm waist and squeeze – but Keith grabs his hands easily. He leans forward, even, shifting his weight on his knees, and yanking Lance’s arms up above his head. Lance let’s out a little  _oof_ sound _._ He looks up and scowls; he opens his mouth to say  _fuck off –_ but it dies in his throat.

Keith is  _so_ close now, close enough for Lance to count each of his long eyelashes. Lance freezes, hands above his head, knees bent up, pressing against Keith’s ass. Keith's really...nice...ass.

“You are just too easy.” Keith mumbles.

“What does that mean?!”

“Nothing.” He says, still close, still breathing in the same air as Lance. He’s hovering. He’s not moving, just sitting there, eyes dragging to look at Lance’s nose, cheeks, lips, before smirking and letting go. Lance rips back his hands. Keith stands up, but not before  _lightly_ grinding into his lap. He walks away to grab his water bottle.

Lance is left there, chest heaving, actually kind of hard.

* * *

 

Something…. something isn’t right.

Keith doesn’t do shit like that. Lance watches to see if he tackles Hunk to the ground – watches to see if he too wiggles in his lap.  But of course, he does no such thing.

Lance tries not to jerk off in his bunk that night, oh does he try.  _Cat piss, abuela’s clam chowder, Hunk’s sweaty shoes-_

But it doesn’t work. The image of Keith leaning over him, dark eyes swirly and shimmery, lips pretty, hair crestfallen between them both, thighs astride his hips- it’s way too much.

It's that night that he sheds his pants. That night that he sucks on his fingers and presses his face into the pillow as he slighty, slightly stretches himself open.

Lance feels like he’s been through a blender. The whiplash is  _unreal._  He’s getting double teamed by Shiro and Keith – two who don’t even  _know_ what they’re doing to him.

There’s a mission that ends; an attack that was rough, but doable. They’re a little banged up – a little tired. Lance does a number on his lion, totally on accident, mind you.

Unfortunately, he comes out just as scratched as Ol’ Blue. A few bruises, but mostly small cuts, wrist to cheek, from the fist fight. Okay, maybe it wasn’t  _such_ a good idea to jump out of his lion and take the guy head on. Lance is mature enough to recognize that he makes mistakes  _sometimes._

Still, he pops off his helmet with a sigh, collapsing onto the couch in the common room. Shiro already gave everyone the Good Job Pat on the Back - sent them off to shower with a smile. 

Lance lets his head fall back against the couch, chest pushing out air. He’s fuckin’ exhausted, his body unbelievably heavy. He’ll shower later, he figures. Maybe he’ll sleep here for now.

Except there’s a dip in the couch – Lance opens an eye, and sees a frowning Shiro.

“Hey.” Lance closes his eye again. “M’ jus’ gonna’ nap here.”

“No, you’re not.” Shiro shifts on the couch. He sets something down with a clunk. “Sit up.”

“Huh?”

“Shirt off.”

“Excuse me?” Lance opens his eyes- looks down to his torn up uniform.

Shiro doesn’t repeat himself; instead he sits there, eyes narrowed, first aid kit in his lap. Lance lets out a laugh. He falls back against the couch and grins, “Aww, thanks Shiro, but I’m fine. Just beat.”

“Lance.” Shiro says low, and gravely – and holy hell, Lance is suddenly  _very_ awake. He stares, stares because he can’t breathe. Shiro is giving him this look, shoulders squared, face set and serious.

Lance swallows, “Er…fine then.”

He reaches for the back zipper of the uniform; he winces when it stings his wounds. A hand joins his own, a rough, strong, callused one. His fingers trail long and slow, pulling the zipper down to Lance’s lower back.

Lance holds his breath, and looks away from Shiro as he shrugs out of the top of his uniform. He winces a few times, but manages to wiggle the top down to his hips.

Shiro eyes him disapprovingly – looks across all the dried blood, and bruises. “Seriously, Lance?”

“Hey, we got what we needed, didn’t we?”

“Yes, but  _barely._ ” Shiro begins, pulling the wet rag resting on his thigh up to press against the deepest cut in Lance's side, “You can’t keep rushing in there without thinking. That’s Keith’s thing.”

Lance snorts, and then hisses as the rag carefully traces around the slice. “Owww, Shirooo-“

“We’re supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to make decisions  _together._ ”

“But-“

“And I’m your leader.” Shiro grits, jaw set, eyes narrowed where he cleans across the other small scrapes. “It’s my job to keep you safe.”

“Shiro…” Lance swallows, eyes softening.

“You trust me, right?” Shiro asks, serious and deep.

“W-what? Of course I do.”

“Then be more careful. Listen to me.” Shiro’s eyes turn up, human hand now running the wet cloth across the cut in his arm. Lance forgets that breathing is a thing. His heartbeat is in his ears. Shiro’s voice turns softer, “I really hate it when you guys get hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Lance blurts, despite himself, because that  _look_ in Shiro’s eyes is killing him. His hands are…so gentle. They’re horrifyingly close, thighs touching and all. Lance is so gay. So, so gay.  _So gay-_

Shiro smiles; he grabs Lance’s wrist and brings it closer to carefully clean the edge of the scrapes there. “Still…it was a stupid move, but you were incredibly brave.”

Yep. There it is.  _There it is._ The tone that makes Lance want to physically melt on the spot. His vision goes a little blurry. Is he hard? He thinks he might be half hard.

Both hands grip Lance’s wrist, one softly pressing the rag into his palm, wrist bending back as Shiro dotes over the last of his scrapes. The hands leave, dipping into the first aid box for an antibiotic. Lance slowly pieces his brain back together, slowly remembers to speak. “Pff, all in a day’s work for a top notch paladin.”

Shiro smirks; he squeezes some of the antibiotic onto his human fingers, and lathers it up in a way that should  _not_ be as erotic as it is.

“This is going to sting.”

“Pshh, Shiro I’m not a bi- _ow!_ ” He yips, wincing as Shiro smoothly coats the smaller cuts with his fingers. His hands are warm, slowly sweeping to the cut beneath his nipple, to the small slice above his hip. Lance is very, very happy that the slack from the top of the suit is covering his crotch.

He can feel himself blushing; it’s annoying, when you can feel your face heating, but you can’t do a damn thing about it. Shiro isn’t really paying attention, more focused on smoothing over the antibiotic.

Shiro takes his hand again. Lance considers death a plausible way out of this.

He presses over each slice – each cut gets a band aid.

“Dude.” Lance clears his throat, “I uh, can do this myself, you know.”

Shiro huffs a laugh, “You can, but that doesn’t mean you will.”

Hm. Touché.

“You worry too much.”

“It’s my job to worry.” Shiro pulls away, and reaches for the spray antibiotic to coat the big slash across Lance’s chest. “You guys are under  _my_ command. My care, too.”

Is it hot in here? It feels very, very hot in here.

The spray stings like hell – but then comes the bandages. Shiro starts at his side, warm fingers working softly around his torso. Lance notes that his cyborg arm is warm too – it doesn’t scratch. It doesn’t feel like rough metal. It’s just smooth. Kinda’ cool, too.

Shiro wraps him carefully, securing the bandage in place. His fingers linger for  _just_ a moment, hovering there, right above the skin of his hip, before the hands pull away. Shiro smiles, “Alright. Good to go.”

“Great.” Lance swallows, “How do I shower?”

“You don’t. Welcome to sponge baths.”

Lance groans, head dipping back against the couch. Although, his eyes follow Shiro - follow him as he slowly stands, patting the outside of Lance’s thigh, before gathering the med kid and walking away.

His thigh burns.

* * *

 

In hindsight, that was probably the  _most_ intimate medical care Lance has ever received.

* * *

 

He looks himself in the mirror – really,  _really_ looks. Lance is a little skinny. He’s gotten tanner, which is fine with him. He looks himself in the eye and grinds his teeth –

_It’s all in your head. It’s all. In your head._

_Move on. Move on._

_You’re their teammate. Their friend._

_They have each other._

He looks to the fading marks across his arms. Soon they’ll heal, no evidence left of Shiro’s tender fingers. Nothing left to show that Shiro ever touched him at all.

_Fuck._

Lance squeezes his eyes shut; he thumps his forehead against the mirror and sighs.

* * *

 

It’s getting worse. How? Fuck if Lance knows, but it is. Each brush in the hallway – each hit during sparring, each  _good job! –_ it burns him, simmers his blood, sets his body on fire.

Lance is so desperate. Fuck, he’s so  _pathetic._ He can’t even move on. Can’t stop thinking about both of them. He tries to think of the princess more, but it’s fruitless. Lance is suffocating, drowning, in the emotions he can’t control. Stupid crushes. Stupid feelings.

He’s eighteen. He should have his shit together, for fucks sake.

The catalyst – the true tipping point – is when Lance goes looking for Shiro. He needed a sparring partner. Someone to beat out frustration with, since  _Keith_ is definitely a no- go for sparing, and Hunk and Pidge are gone doing god knows what.

He knocks on the door. Knocks twice, for good measure. No one answers, so he knocks again:

“Yo, Shiro?”

Silence.

Lance props his hand on his hip in exasperation. Seriously, man, Lance has looked  _everywhere._ This is getting annoying.

“Shirooooo?”

Nothing again. Lance huffs, waiting another moment, before the door slides open. He blinks, surprised, and steps in. 

“Ayo, Shiro, are you down to spa-“ Lance bites himself off, head reeling, hand bracing up against the doorway.

Keith is in his lap, hands behind Shiro’s head, thighs on either side of his hips. Lance can’t see between them, but he’s got a pretty good idea of where Shiro’s hands are. Both of their heads whip over, lips popping apart, eyes wide in surprise.

And uh, yep. That’s the feeling of over half the blood in Lance’s body rushing south at an  _unhealthy_ rate.

“Ah, er, uh-“ Lance stammers, nearly tripping over his own foot, “s-sorry!”

He sees their eyes, both beautiful and round – and he sees them dip down, to look at where he’s sorta tenting in his jeans, and the horror hits Lance like a train.

He gets one last look – one last glace at Keith, clothes ruffled, and Shiro, lips swollen and wet – before he turns on his heel and books it the fuck out of there.

“Lance, wait!”

Nope, nope. Not today, satan.

Lance runs down the hallway, not very graceful with a hardon, mind you, but he makes it halfway to the common room before he hears footsteps after him.

“ _Lance!”_

_“For fucks sake-“_

He’s not ready for whatever super awkward conversation they’re about to have. Why do they have to be so pretty? Why do they have to be so pretty  _together?_

He loses them somewhere in one of the castle hallways. He manages to slide into his room and lock the door, breath heavy, chest squeezing.

He hopes for a day his heart beats normally.

* * *

 

He’s scared to leave his room for dinner, so he doesn’t. Pidge comes and finds him; they demand that Lance eat immediately, so he sneaks out of his room the best he can. He’s maybe halfway to his room, food tucked under his arm, and he’s yet to see Keith or Shiro.

Maybe if he avoids them long enough, they can forget this ever happened.

Lance turns the last corner to his room; he drops his food.

Hands, strong and warm, grip him by the waist. He gasps, flailing as he’s thrown over a firm shoulder. He looks down, legs and arms wiggling, yelping – until he sees Keith standing there, arms crossed, walking behind him.

Lance sags; he looks down to see the back of Shiro’s shirt as they walk.

“What the hell?!” Lance grits, and pounds a fist between Shiro’s shoulder blades. “Let me go!”

“Nope.” Keith fumes, “We tried doing this Shiro’s way, so now we’re doing this  _my_ way.”

“Doing what?!” Lance barks, still wiggling and squirming. Man, fuck Shiro. Why does he have to be so strong? And hot?

They walk into a bedroom – Shiro’s, he notes. He’s set down on the ground softly, but he has only one second to stand before he’s pressed up against the door, Keith glaring up at him.

“D-dude.” Lance tries to push back, “L-look, if you’re mad about me walking in on you guys, you coulda’ just t-talked to me. Jeez.”

“No.” Keith barks, “I’m mad because you’re the  _densest_ person I’ve ever met. An absolute moron.”

“Keith.” Shiro warns, low and authoritative behind him.

“It’s true!” Keith presses his forearm harder against Lance’s chest. “We’ve been dropping hints for  _weeks,_ and he still doesn’t have a fucking  _clue._ ”

“Wait…” Lance pauses his struggle, his grip lessoning a little on Keith’s bicep. “What?”

“You’re a whole new level of naïve.” Keith grumbles. “I don’t even know why I like you.”

And it’s at this point exactly that Lance’s brain short circuits, and reboots.

Keith crosses the very small distance between them and tips his head, pressing their lips together in a firm kiss. Lance’s lips part out of shock, eyes widening, nails digging into Keith’s arms. He's overwhelmed, not thinking, only feeling Keith, Keith, how he smells, how he tastes. Keith kisses him, and kisses him. He doesn’t stop, head pulling back, lips parting, pressing, parting -

Cue the Windows XP startup sound:  _doo do do do doo doooo~_

Lance’s brain clicks back on.

_“I don’t even know why I like you.”_

_“I don’t even know why I like you.”_

_“- I like you-“_

“Oh my god.” Lance says into the kiss and  _melts._ Melts horribly. Melts and shatters into a thousand goopy pieces. He closes his eyes and tips his head and falls, falls, falls so hard into the kiss that his head thumps against the door.

Keith kisses forceful and hurried with purpose; Lance has only kissed a few people in his life, but enough to keep up, to keep their teeth from clicking. It’s so hurried and messy, but Lance scrambles to keep upright, to show that holy  _fuck_ he’s needed this.

But with the system reboot, comes the common sense. It hits him suddenly, like a kick to the gut.

He gasps, and pushes hard at Keiths chest, shocking him away to stumble towards Shiro-  _Shiro!_

_“-Shiro!”_ Lance blurts, stuttering, “B-boyfriend. Yours! Y-you-“ Lance blinks rapidly, fingers coming up to feel against his bottom lip.

Shiro chuckles, and wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders – a soothing motion that sets the younger at ease. “Do you want to try that sentence again?”

“What the  _fuck_ is going on?” Lance breathes. “You two are dating. What the hell? What the-“

“Dude.” Keith rubs his temples, “You are  _not_ that dense. Come on.”

“I…”

“We like you.” Shiro explains. “We’ve tried to show you.”

Oh.

Lance blinks. Blinks twice because  _holy shit._

It all comes rushing back – the soft touches, the compliments, the soft care and steady glances. It all comes rushing back  _so fast and-_

“I’m an idiot.” Lance thinks aloud. Keith throws up his arms in an exasperated motion. Lance repeats, “I am an  _idiot._ ”

“No.” Shiro pulls his arm away from Keith and grins, “Well, maybe just a little.”

“ _Hey-_ “ Lance begins, head still reeling, processing all this, “-how was I supposed to know that you two would  _both_ be into some weird poly-“ he chokes off, as Shiro’s arms dip down and circle around his waist, tugging him close, his face pressing into the dip of his neck. Lance inhales, and freezes.

“He’s a hugger.” Keith says casually, taking a seat on the bed.

“Mmm.” Shiro agrees.

“W-wait, wait.” Lance chokes. “S-so you two just assume that I like you g-guys back? What if my heart  _only_ belongs to the princess? Hm?”

Both Keith  _and_ Shiro laugh, and Lance’s face burns.

“Please.” Keith flops back on the bed. “It’s been written all over your forehead for months.”

Goddammit, Lance can only blush so much in one day. He hates being caught off guard – hates it more when he can’t come up with a good retort.

“Well your…your hair is dumb!”

It's not.

“Mm. Creative.”

“It’s okay.” Shiro laughs, hands pressing soothingly into his lower back, making Lance melt like a damn popsicle. His nose buries behind his ear, much like a snuggly dog, “Your transparency is cute.”

Lance flushes, “Do I get to kiss you too, or?”

Shiro hums against his ear- pulls back just far enough to look him in the eye. He’s taller, of course, older by a few years, but less than you’d expect. It shows in his face, really, how nice and smooth his skin is, despite the scar across his face. One of the hands leave his back, rising to cradle the side of his face. Lance leans into the touch, almost subconsciously. The hand slips down behind his neck – Lance only watches his eyes until the very last second.

Shiro’s kisses are way different than Keith's. Not better, just, different. More practiced and refined. They’re slow, like Shiro takes his time and loves doing so.

“Cute.” Keith observes, kicking off his boots. “I’m tired.”

Lance huffs into the kiss, and Shiro pulls back with a smile.

“If you think all three of us are fitting in that bed, then there is something seriously wrong with you.”

“We can fit.” Shiro hums, and before Lance knows it, he’s being picked up by his thighs and set onto the bed, squished between two warm bodies.

“F-fuck!” Lance scrambles, half laughing because  _dammit_ is this real? Is this honestly happening right now?

“He does that too.” Keith hums, wiggling on to his side and up towards the pillow.

“Well.” Lance rubs his nose, “If I had god-like strength I’d probably manhandle people too.”

“So you admit Shiro is stronger than you?”

“Well duh.”

“But you won’t admit that  _I’m_ stronger than you?”

“Because you’re not!”

“Can we not do this?” Shiro laughs, squirming an arm around Lance's slim waist.

Lance huffs; he looks up through his eyelashes and sees Keith, in all his beauty, watching him through half lidded eyes. Lance isn’t sure when the banter turned into this – from real hate, to something more affectionate.

He’s still hungry. The bed is a little too warm.

For once, Lance doesn’t complain.

However, he does mumble, "Are you guys really uh...sure about this?" 

Keith rolls his eyes before he closes them, "Shut up, Lance." 

And thats that.

He doesn't fall asleep- his mind is still tripping over itself to understand that he  _has this._ Through some weird, twisted turn of events, he has this.

Lance does, however, find solace in Shiro's body weight pressing against his back, and Keith's steady breathing as he sleeps.

* * *

 

They wake to an alarm – which surprises Lance the most, considering that he hardly remembers falling asleep, even.

The three of them jolt out of bed, Keith and Lance rushing to their rooms for their uniforms. It’s not exactly the morning Lance was hoping for – but this is their life  now. They’re at the beck and call of the universe.

Lance hopes that this…whatever they are doesn’t affect Voltron.

It doesn’t.

* * *

 

They come back tired, bones achy, sweaty and tired. They’re without a scratch, which is a total success in Lance’s book.

He still hasn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, so he scarfs down some of Hunk’s leftovers while the others shower. He knows he’s being a little quieter than usual, but his brain is whirring, like Pidge’s computer fan back on earth.

_They like me?_

_We slept in the same bed last night, holy fuck. They like me. What, what._

 In the hallway he passes Shiro; the elder smiles, and continues down towards his bedroom.

Lance rubs the pink off his cheeks, all the way to the showers.

When he’s clean, body rejuvenated, happy in soft clothes, a hand grabs his wrist, and drags him all the way down the hall.

“ _H-hey-“_

The door slides shut, and he’s pressed against the frame. What de-ja vu.

“ _Dude._ ” Lance bites, as his head hits the metal, “Is this gonna’ be a reoccurring thing with you, or-“

Keith grabs a fistful of Lance’s nice, _unwrinkled_ shirt, and hauls him down to shorten the distance, kissing him just as strong and needy as before. Lance finds himself wining, nearly, head tipping to kiss him back.

It’s like kissing an animal, or like, maybe it’s the other way around, because the fighting spirit in Lance’s chest simmers into warm fuzzies.

The hand in his shirt smooths out- reaches up behind his head even, to curl at the nape of his neck. Lance sighs; the kisses are warm and healing, maybe, because his body doesn’t ache like it did before. He worms his hands down by Keith’s hips, and runs his thumbs over the hip bones there. The way Keith kisses is addicting – it’s so easy to get swept away, gone to sea. Lance’s arms raise with goosebumps.

Keith pulls back, their lips popping wetly. He breathes, “Sorry. I didn’t get to do that this morning.”

Lance blinks once, twice, and then laughs, shoulders shaking, hands tightening around his hips. “I can’t blame you. I know I’m _addicting.”_

Keith rolls his eyes, but runs his nails up into Lance’s scalp, which feels _hooo boy_ really awesome. If Lance could purr, he totally would, but instead he tips his head and hums. Keith brings his hands down to thumb around Lance’s ears, and says, “I’m running out of patience with you.”

“Eh?? What did I do?”

“You made me wait for this.” Keith huffs, and tips his chin up to kiss the curve of his neck. Lance shivers. 

“Oh, like I did it on purpose? You two are the assholes who couldn’t just _talk_ to me.”

“I’m going to fuck you.” Keith murmurs against his neck, then his jaw, then the corner of his mouth – “Right here. And if the alarm rings, I’m _still_ going to fuck you, Voltron and the universe be damned.”

Lance doesn’t want to give in, really, but that coil in his gut twists and his breath gushes out in a _oh_ sound. The mental image is almost enough to make him swoon – which he _doesn’t_ by the way, because he’s t-tough as nails.

“What makes you think I’ll let you fuck me?” Lance huffs, to cover his nerves – cover the way he _wants_ it so, so bad.

“Something tells me you’ll be obedient.” Keith’s hands curve from his hair, down his neck, around his shoulders, dipping down his chest. His voice is smooth, and attractive,  “Especially if I tell you what a _good boy_ you are.”

Lance knows he’s teasing, but fuck, that does him in so, _so bad._ The floor drops beneath him, his world swirls full of Keith _._ He brings his hands up and threads them through Keith’s hair – which is woah…really soft. He tugs hard, forcing Keith’s mouth to sloppily press against his own.

Keith lets out a muffled groan and kisses back, head pulling back to break, and pressing back in like a dance. There’s tongue and hands, knees between thighs, hair pulling and gentle biting –

Somehow they make it on the bed, Lance sprawled out against the pillows, hands pulled high above his head.

“Igh.” Lance huffs, and wiggles his wrists, “Do you have a thing for me on my back, or?”

“What if I do?” Keith hums, kisses down to his lips, down his chest, and when he can’t hold Lance’s wrists anymore he lets go.

Lance isn’t sure where his shirt went. Keith lost his somewhere too, which is _totally_ fine, because Keith’s body is toned and smooth and completely hairless. It must all be on his head, dammit.

Keith noses into his stomach, mouth moving to nip at his sides before hooking his fingers into Lance’s beltloops. Lance isn't pliant by nature, but he thinks he might want to be.

The door slides open, and they freeze.

Shiro lets out a small laugh, and slides the door shut behind him. “It’s just me.”

Lance breathes out in relief, and Keith resumes like nothing happened.

“What’s going on?” Shiro hums, his voice really, _really_ deep and nice. This must be his sex voice. Lance is definitely tenting now.

“M’ gonna’ fuck him.”

“Ah.” Shiro laughs, and grabs the chair from Keith’s desk. He turns it around to straddle it backwards, forearms bracing against the back, chin resting atop.

The motion is so fluid and effortless that Lance finds it kinda’ sexy – but his attention is turned back when Keith yanks his pants off completely, and chucks them to the floor.

“Hey, be careful with those. They’re my only not-space-jeans.”

Keith ignores him, instead, spreading Lance’s thighs and running his tongue along the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs. Lance chokes, and digs his fingers into the sheets, “ _F-fuck.”_

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, “Keith can slow down if you don’t want to-“

“No, no!” Lance yelps, swallowing, “No. I’m just, like, agh.” He presses a hand against his eyes and breathes, “I’ve been pining after you two so fuckin’ hard, man. And like, I’ve uh…never uh. Actually slept with someone, so?”

It sounds like jibberish, but Shiro nods, “That’s fine. Keith can go slow.”

Keith hums, "Yeah. You're not the only one who's been pining." He moves down to mouth against the bulge in his underwear, wetting the fabric with the press of his tongue.Lance swallows down another groan, and flops his head back against the pillows.

“Little virgin Lance.” Keith teases, “Shiro, are you sure you don’t want the honors?”

Lance opens his mouth to fight the remark, but Shiro shakes his head, “You go for it. I’ll help.”

_I’ll help._

There’s this really desperate noise that makes its way out of Lance’s throat, despite his best efforts. Keith’s eyes shoot upwards, and Lance meets them with a gasp. Damn it all, his eyes are so pretty, especially now, with the pupils blown wide. It's in this moment here that Lance realizes that maybe...maybe they are just as crazy about him. 

Lance watches, feeling a little helpless, as Keith finally tugs off his underwear in one full swoop, tossing those to the ground at last.

“H-hey.” Lance draws up a knee, exposed under Keith’s steady eyes. “Why am I the only naked one here?”

“He has a point.” Shiro pipes. 

Keith huffs, a little impatient, and maybe flustered – Lance isn’t sure, but it’s pretty adorable.

Lance grins, “Take it off, take it off.” His confidence slowly swells back, despite being buttass naked and harder than steel.

Keith grumbles and reaches for his belt, pulling it through the loops, the leather hissing. He stands up to shrug out of his jeans, and Lance watches with a smirk. Keith always looks sexy, even when he’s trying not to be. It’s one of the reasons Lance used to hate him so much.

Keith worms his jeans down and kicks them off – it takes more effort than it should, but that’s because Keith wears jeans tighter than a fucking swim cap. Lance looks over to Shiro; his eyes are fixated solely on Keith, pupils wide and swirly with affection. It’s actually adorable, and Lance would say something, but Keith is back on top of him, knees between thighs, mouth pressing against his throat. Lance barely has enough time to look between them and think _dammit, he’s got a nice dick too-_

“Let’s flip.” Is all Keith says, before they’re flopped on the bed, Lance astride his hips, blinking away the whiplash.

Lance swallows before he barks, “Can you guys stop fuckin’ manhandling me?”

“Why?” Keith palms his way down to Lance’s hips, and dips his fingers into his hipbones, purposefully avoiding the hardon between Lance’s thighs. “It’s fun.”

“It’s _degrading._ ”

“It’s cute.” Keith pipes back, before he reaches up with his left hand, and brings Lance back down to kiss him.

Now, here’s where they start to play _dirty._

Lance is pretty sure that Keith knows  he can kiss like, fucking amazing, because whenever Lance accidentally moans, he smirks. Bastard.

He feels a tongue pry into his mouth, and Lance’s brain just kinda’ goes into autopilot. Like, why wouldn’t it? Keith is tracing every single tooth with his tongue, before petting his way across his tongue, and the roof of his mouth. Lance tries to reciprocate, but he’s barely holding his own weight, here. Spit drips past his lips, forced by the heat of his tongue. It's oddly erotic.

He doesn’t notice the bed dip behind him, but he _does_ notice Keith grind his hips up, cocks slipping together, before pulling away. Lance chokes back a noise. It doesn’t sound sexy at all, but Keith smirks against his mouth and kisses him more.

Lance doesn’t pay attention to how long they do this, rutting against each other like animals, kissing slobbery and fast.

But Keith is evil. He’s a _hundred_ percent evil, the distracting jerk.

There’s the pop of a cap, and wet, slick fingers squeezing his ass cheeks, pulling them apart gently.

Lance fucking _squeaks,_ his arms going out, head nearly smacking against Keith’s, if not for the latter’s fast reflexes.

“ _Oh my god, Shiro?”_

“Sorry.” Shiro says, but doesn’t sound apologetic whatsoever. He presses a thumb against his hole shamelessly, rubs it there for a moment, and Lance lets out a raw groan, forehead falling to rest against Keith’s shoulder.

_“_ Heh.” Keith laughs; he runs a hand around to feel the bumps in Lance’s spine, the skin smooth and tan. “I knew you were a bottom.”

“Shut the _fuck u- hhnnp,"_  Lance groans. He subconsciously rolls his hips back when Shiro presses his index finger in. He notes, dully, that it’s his robot hand, which slides way easier with lube. It feels really good. Like, _way_ good. Lance huffs, face red, dick twitching against Keith’s, “Did you guys plan this?”

“Whaaat?” Keith feigns innocence, with a grin, “Nah.”

Shiro’s touch is way gentler than Keith’s, but it’s still strong, and purposeful, like Shiro knows _exactly_ what he’s doing, which is an enormous turn on. His finger presses in, slides out and in until Lance groans, and adds another.

“You’re okay, right?” Shiro scissors his fingers, and Lance keens.

“Hhhnn, of c-course I am. It’s not like I’ve never done this mnn-myself.”

Shiro sucks in a sudden breath, and bites his tongue.

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up, “Oh really?”

Lance feels his face burn, “Like you haven’t.”

“What’s your record?”

“…two.”

“I can beat that.” Shiro notes, and scissors his fingers, grinning around Lance to meet Keith’s eyes. Lance grinds his teeth – focuses on Keith’s hand trailing up and down his back. It’s weird, weird that this is happening, weird that Keith is being _soothing,_ quietly helping him stay calm, and relaxed. 

Keith hums, and wiggles to rut his hips up for more friction. They’re pressed incredibly close now that Lance’s arms are officially jelly, but Keith can still rock his hips up, and feel Lance moan against his neck.

“Better hold on.” Keith states, “Shiro is good at this.”

Shiro adds a third finger, and Lance sobs.

“ _G-god._ Y-you would know, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, duh.”

Lance huffs out a wet moan, eyes watering because _motherfucker,_ Shiro is way, way good with his hands, which comes as a surprise to literally no one. Shiro is pretty quiet, but Lance can feel his free hand ghosting up and around his thigh, soft and protective. Sometimes Lance can hear his breathing hitch when he wiggles his hips.

“Hhhrgh,” Lance huffs, “God. This feels w-way better than when I do it.”

Shiro laughs behind him, pulling out his fingers to thrust back in, the sounds wet, but strangely erotic.

“And water is wet.” Keith mumbles.

“ _Shut up!_ I swear to god, If you don’t stop running your mouth, I won’t let you anywhere near my ass.”

“Now you know how it feels to be me.”

“ _Bitch-_ “ Lance lifts his head up to argue, but Shiro curls his fingers, all three, right smack dab into his prostate, and Lance moans so loud he’s almost worried for his vocal chords.

“Damn.” Keith breathes out; his voice suddenly dips away from that playful tone, and down towards something more seductive. “That’s one way to shut you up.”

Lance can’t even reply, he’s breathing so hard, dick leaking a goddamn storm between their bellies. Keith hasn’t given up on his little ruts against Lance, which only set him more on edge, more on fire.

“Hhh.” Lance pants, eyes watering, “Fuck.” He's losing himself already, in warm hands and bodies, in sheets under his knees and Shiro's looming presence behind him.

"You're doing so good." Keith croons, soft and gentle against his cheek.

"Beautifully." Shiro pats his hip, and curls his fingers again, this time harder, and Lance actually yells.

“ _Fuck! Fuck, Shiro, fuck,_ I’m-“ His hips rut down against Keith’s, back arching, jaw falling slack. Keith takes the opportunity to kiss him again, now that he’s pliant and warm. Lance can hardly kiss back, instead resting against him, letting Keith coax his mouth open with his tongue.

He thinks he might hear Shiro mutter a curse behind him; the hand squeezes his thigh as metallic fingers twist out softly, circling around his entrance and pushing back in. Shiro curses again, and Keith breaks the kiss to grin, “Something wrong back there?”

“N-no.” Shiro stutters, for the first time tonight. He laughs to himself, and trails his human fingers down to curl around Keith's ankle. “I’m way over my head with you two.” He leans down to lightly, _lightly_ nip at the skin of Lance’s lower back, and the latter jolts, breath sucking in, eyes squeezing shut.

“He is pretty, isn’t he?" Keith says aloud, hands sweeping up Lance’s chest, around his shoulders, and behind his neck.

Shiro hums, “He is.”

“He’s been so good, too.”

Lance’s body _burns._ He’s not sure how long he’ll last; he's sweaty, his balls already tight. If Shiro curls his fingers again, he’s not sure-

“Don’t.” Keith calls back, leaning his head to the side to look Shiro in the eye. “He’ll come.”

The fingers leave. Lance panics.

He feels _empty_ suddenly, which is weird, weird, this is all so weird, fuck _fuck-_

“Hey.” Keith mumbles; his hands come up to brace against his cheeks, forcing eye contact. “Hey.”

Lance pants, and shivers. Is this what he’s become?

“You’re okay.” Keith states, fingers coming up to brush Lance’s bangs back. Shiro massages his hand from his ass to his knees, a reminder that he's still there. 

“Yeah.” Lance blinks, and swallows. “O-of course I am. Who do you take me for?”

Keith smiles. He wiggles up a little on the bed, “Do you wanna’ ride me? I’ll let you stay on top.”

“Let me?” Lance sputters, sitting up on his knees, finally gaining back the feeling in his arms now that Shiro isn’t _breaking_ him. “Pff, don’t underestimate me.”

Keith hums, and draws his knees up, his thighs pressing against Lance’s ass.

“Go slow.” Shiro warns. He watches, sliding out of the way enough for his back to press against the adjacent wall, his right leg hanging off the end of the bed, his left tucking underneath himself.

“ _Go slow._ ” Lance parrots back. He sits up on his knees, sliding his hand down Keith’s chest with newfound purpose. “Like you guys have gone slow at all.”

“I told you I’m outta’ patience.” Keith says, eyes dark and lust ridden. Lance’s heart squeezes.

He looks down beneath him, down, to the pretty sweeps of Keith’s navel. He dips his fingers down and tentatively wraps them around the base of his cock. He watches Keith’s face – watches his breath suck in, and his eyes widen.

He strokes twice, just to feel the weight of it. It’s different than before, being pressed against his thigh as Shiro worked behind him. Keith looks exposed – it’s a good look for him.

Shiro provides more lube; Lance gets the pleasure of slicking it across Keith’s dick, and watching him whine. Lance wiggles up on his knees, and pulls Keith's dick up to line against himself. He’s a little nervous, but he’s harder than hell, and he _wants_ this, oh Lance wants this. He wants to watch Keith fall apart. He wants to make Shiro proud. He wants, he _wants._ Lance’s body simmers with heat and arousal. 

He chews on the inside of his cheek, “I assume there’s no space condoms?”

“I’m clean.” Keith grits, his voice already wasted – which is empowering, holy shit. Keith huffs, “I’ll pull out, god, please, just move. I’ve been listening to you moan and wiggle on top of me for _so long I’m-“_

_Okay then._

Lance presses the tip of his cock against his hole, forces his body to relax, and slips down an inch or so. Keith’s body seizes beneath him, head tipping back, a groan rumbling from his throat.

Lance pants with the labor of holding himself still. His thighs shake a little from the hovering position, and he’s not sure if he has the stomach muscles to hold himself here. It burns- Keith is bigger than he expected. The panic rushes back- 

Ah, but Shiro comes to the rescue. He reaches over with his right hand and braces it against Lance's lower back, holding him still. “Breathe, Lance.”

“I’m breathing!”

“Slower.” Shiro hums, low, and sexy as fuck. “Slide down a little,” his fingers massage into his back, “just like that. Good."

Lance listens to him, eyes fixated on Keith’s face as he eventually bottoms out, ass flush against Keith. It stings a little, but Shiro did a fine job of prepping him.

“ _Shit._ ” Keith trembles with the task of staying still. “ _Lance._ ”

Wow, his name sounds really good like that. Actually, all of this is good, really, _really_ good. Lance feels full, good, protected, appreciated, everything he ever wanted, right here.

He knows he should move, but he can’t. Not yet, not with Keith looking at him like that, not with Shiro’s hand on his back.

“ _Lance, Lance, Lance.”_

Keith brings his hands up, palms spread out, and Lance doesn’t hesitate to take them. Their fingers thread together, and Lance suddenly feels a lot more balanced. He uses Keith as leverage to rise, lube squishing as he shallowly thrusts back down. They both groan, fingers tightening, backs arching.

The hand at his back leaves, but he can feel the heat of Shiro’s eyes behind him. Hot, hot. Everything is so _hot-_

Keith rolls his hips up, the last of his restraint crumbling away. Lance chokes, moans, grumbles out garbage because that’s who he _is._ Really, can you expect him to be quiet? I don’t think so.

“ _Fuck!”_

_“Lance-“_ Keith coos, and rocks up, “-good. It’s, it’s-“

Lance’s hair sticks to his forehead as he tries to bounce on his cock. The physical exhaustion barely touches him now that his dick bobs against his hip, now that the endorphins rush through his blood. He rides him, maybe a little messy, maybe without rhythm, but it feels so awesome, dammit, it’s beautiful. It feels amazing, and Lance’s chest doesn’t hurt anymore.

It doesn’t, it doesn’t. That winding, that squeeze around his heart.

He holds onto Keith, rides him until he grinds right where he needs him, and arches his back into every cry.

"So good, Lance." Keith gasps as hips roll, "Waited so long- so good- hhn-" 

Lance squeezes his fingers and groans, the compliments pulsing between his thighs. 

He feels the need to see Shiro – he turns his head and about comes on the spot. Shiro is still there, but his pants are shoved down to the tops of his thighs, a hand between his legs, head tipped back against the wall, watching them both.

“Shit.” Lance whips his head back and groans, gyrating his hips. “S-shit.”

“Faster, Lance.” Keith prods, “Can you do that? I know, hahh, you can, Lance, you’re so good, so beautiful-“

Lance isn't sure how long he stays here, bouncing up and down, swiveling his hips, doing anything he can to feel _better, better -_ but eventually Keith lets go of one hand, and works it around Lance’s cock and he’s gone. He’s gone. He’s coming so hard he almost falls, but for Keith’s hand in his. His voice goes raw, he makes a fucking mess, but _damn_ he’s never felt like this, where his entire body tingles from the roots of his hair to his toes. The feeling pulses once, twice, multiple times until it dims. He's not sure what sounds he made. He doesn't want to know. 

It takes a moment for him to breathe – to open his eyes and see Keith, sweaty and squirming, _trying_ to be patient. He whines, _whines,_ for fucks sake, “Lance…”

Keith’s chest is sticky now, because of him. Lance wants a picture. He wants like, seven. He wants to tattoo this behind his eyes and see it forever.

Wow, things have changed. They’ve really, really changed, definitely for the better.

Keith is still wiggling, still hard in his ass. So Lance smirks down at him, his brain a little less foggy, and grinds down so hard that Keith yells.

“ _Off, off, off-“_

He slides up and away just quick enough for Keith to grip the sheets behind his head and sob, body shivering and shaking to pieces. Lance tries to work a hand over him fast enough, just to carry him through it, which Keith appreciates greatly.

It takes maybe half a minute for the room to simmer down. Shiro is quiet behind him. Lance isn’t sure if he can risk looking at him and getting hard again.

“What a fuckin’ mess.” Keith grumbles, head falling back.

“Your fault.” Lance blames immediately, but wiggles his way up to kiss Keith, slow and happy. Keith hums against him- thumbs against his cheek for good measure.

Lance rolls to lay at his side, Keith props himself up to look at Shiro.

“You alive over there?”

“No.” Shiro answers, now dressed again, but looking incredibly disheveled. “You guys killed me.”

Lance and Keith laugh, and it’s a really, really good feeling.

* * *

 

In all honesty, Lance never thought something like this was possible.

There’s just, like, way too much room for jealousy, ya know? Polyamorous relationships have become slightly more accepted on earth, but not by much. There’s a lot that can go wrong.

But they’re not on earth, are they?

Plus, Lance never really felt jealous, or anything. Walking in on them in the showers, in their rooms, seeing them snuggle and secretly hold hands – he was never envious of one or the other. He just like…wanted to stick himself in there. Watch? Maybe? They’re just hot, dammit, and now that Lance _has_ them, he sure as fuck isn’t letting go.

Everyone knows what’s up by the next morning – nobody asks any questions when Lance sleepily climbs into Shiro’s lap one afternoon, or when Keith and Lance start making out heavily after a fight. Nothing is normal anymore, but that’s fine. He flies a giant space cat.

Pidge comes up with a PDA jar, mostly because Lance can’t really keep his hands to himself. Keith and Shiro are relatively good about that, but Lance tends to be the catalyst. How can they resist him? When he snuggles up to their side and makes little needy noises until they take his hand and hold it tight.

_PDA Jar!_ Pidge will yell, every time.

Ah, but that’s fine. Lance is actually really happy – he’s not so homesick anymore. His chest doesn’t ache.

There’s a day where he walks in on Shiro and Keith in the showers, Keith on his knees, fingers digging into the back of Shiro’s thighs as he sucks dick like a champ.

And Lance grins – practically pulls up a seat to watch too. They’re especially gorgeous, naked and wet and hard. It’s fun to meet Shiro’s eye – watch the way Shiro slumps against the shower wall and pants. Lance feels invigorated – hopes to become as good a cocksucker as Keith.

Heh.

* * *

 

“I wish we could go on dates.” Lance thinks aloud, as he lays on his back, shooting a rubberband up in the air, and catching it again.

“We can date after we save the universe.”

“But dude, that could be _years._ ”

“Where would we even go?” Keith snaps back, head turning in Shiro’s lap. “Oh, right, a lovely date in the lion hanger sounds nice.”

“We pass by planets all the time!” Lance fights back, “Like we can’t get Allura to stop by one for _two hours._ Come on, man.”

“Well, we’re already chasing a lead right now.” Shiro butts in, “You know, to find out what they’re doing with all that Quintessence. Maybe once things calm down.”

Lance gasps, wiggling up into a sitting position, “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe!” Keith bites, from Shiro’s lap.

“A yes maybe, or a no maybe?”

“A probably, maybe.” Shiro plays along, laughing when Keith sputters.

Lance cheers, “Yes!” He twists closer, and presses quick kisses against Shiro's cheek, jaw, neck, hair-  then lips, as Shiro turns with a laugh, and kisses him back. Ahh, Shiro kisses so well, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Why are you humoring him?” Keith flushes, just barely, and noses into Shiro’s thigh. “We don’t have time for stupid things like…like fancy dinners and movies.”

“Fine then.” Lance says, popping away from the kiss, “We’ll just leave you behind.”

Shiro reaches up with the hand not in Keith’s hair, and tips Lance’s face back, bringing him back in with just a _twinge_ of impatience. Lance grins and goes to kiss him back – Shiro works his mouth open with his tongue, and Lance's brain stops working.

“D-don’t you dare.” Keith sputters, “I’m not saying I don’t _want_ to go on one, I-I’m just – we don’t have time!”

Shiro hums, and breaks the kiss himself, “We’ll make time.”  He falls back down on the bed, head against the pillow, and Keith squirms up further.

Lance sticks out his tongue, and Keith matches it.

A few months ago they’d fight, probably - but now Lance just lies down next to Keith, orders him to _scoot ya boot, Shiro’s got two boobs for a reason._

_They’re not boobs,_ Shiro argues, flushing, as Keith and Lance laugh, all three of them somehow fitting on this small bed, pushed against the wall, floating in space.

A hand falls to thumb through his short hair. Another, smaller one, reaches around and flops over his side.

Mm, yes. Who’s the odd man out, now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adjdhsd this was so long im sorry
> 
> you might see another chapter added to this thats just gonna be 200% smut,, just cause im weak for shiro banging lance
> 
> anyways ty for reading


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* heres that sin chapter i promised

It's been a few months, and Lance can roughly say hes acclimated to dating two people.

Like, okay, yeah, there’s alotta’ extra limbs in bed. Sometimes you get kneed in the ribs and sometimes you’re the one waking up on the floor – it’s fine, it’s all good.

It just, is what it is, you know? Lance likes to deal in facts; which are, the snuggles are A1, Voltron is stronger than ever, and the sex is _fantastic._

But uh, there’s something bugging Lance. It’s not even _that_ big of a deal but, it’s itchin’ at him, like the old sweaters he got every Christmas. It’s annoying; that squeezing, gut dropping feeling.

Shiro hasn’t fucked him yet.

He said it, okay? Lance can’t sleep at night because Shiro hasn’t put his dick up his butt. But like, he puts his dick in Keith’s butt all the time?

It’s not like they don’t have sex, because they _do-_ Lance has extensively learned the power of Shiro’s tongue – it’s just, there hasn’t been any PIV. Or, uh, PIA.

Maybe Keith is special. Maybe they have this weird, Shiro-can’t-fuck-Lance rule. Whatever it is, it’s putting Lance on edge. Making him feel kinda’ left out, you know? Like he’s done something wrong. Maybe he’s not good enough for Shiro.

Ahaha, nah, that can’t be it.

…

* * *

 

Lance doesn’t _mope_ okay. He tries not to, at least, but as it’s been stated before, Lance’s poker face is comparable to a sheet of glass.

And fuck it all, Shiro picks up on his broody moods – worst of all _Keith_ doestoo.

“Hey,” Keith says, against the back of his neck, arms fixed around his sides. “Everything cool?”

The space castle floats silently. There's no concept of night and day, but sometimes they like to pretend. 

Lance grins, an unattractive toothpastey mess, “What’ya mean?”

Keith cringes, and Lance spits into the sink with a laugh.

“You’ve been acting weird," Keith mumbles. His palms are flat against Lance’s torso, a secure, reaffirming action. Keith is weird that way – he’s like, one of those hedgehogs, with spikey backs and soft squishy bellies.

“What, me?” Lance jokes, “I’m never weird.”

“Right.”

“One-hundred-percent normal.”

“Sure.” Keith spins him around, and gently prods Lance back, until his ass is against the granite. “And my real name is Patricia.”

“I knew it!”

“Lance,” Shiro calls, from the bedroom. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

Shiro pops up in the doorway, hair messy, sweatpants low on his hips, “The thing where you avoid talking about something emotional.”

“Or serious," Keith adds.

“Or serious.”

Lance’s heart beats hard and fast; he looks from Shiro, to Keith, before he turns up his nose,  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Shiro and Keith share a look, but back off, shrugging, “Fine, fine.”

“You better stop moping around.”

“I don’t _mope,_ Keith, that’s your thing.”

Keith honest to god growls, and Lance leaps behind Shiro with a laugh.          

* * *

 

Alright, okay. They’re totally onto him. But what the fuck is he supposed to do? _Talk to them?_

Say _Hey Shiro, why won’t you fuck me?_ No way in hell – Lance may be a little shameless, but not _that_ shameless. 

Mostly because he’s not sure if he really wants an answer.

The next time they have sex, Lance presses his face into the pillow and bites his tongue – doesn’t say a thing, when he’s spent in the sheets, and Shiro takes Keith all for himself.

* * *

 

“ _Damn_.” Hunk calls through the coms, “ _That was a close one.”_

“ _It was,"_  Shiro affirms. “ _Watch that leg, Lance.”_

“I am.” Lance spits, trying not to sound too pissy. There are, actually, lives on the line here, so Lance can’t afford to keep thinking about his sex life.

The beast in front of them is bubbling with toxic energy, another fucked up experiment from that witch. Instead of a hundred eyes, it’s got none, relying solely on speed and agility. Each attack is quick, almost too fast to track with your eyes.

“ _Woah!”_ Pidge cries out, as the shield takes another hit, “ _Guys-“_

 _“Sword!”_ Shiro calls, but Keith is already a step ahead. Of course, of course. It should be known by now. Whenever they’re in a pinch, Shiro will _always_ rely on Keith-

“ _Lance!”_ Shrio yells, “ _Leg!”_

Lance snaps his body into pulling the joystick backwards, calling back the leg, far enough for them to graze past the blast of the monster.

There’s a few mumbled voices through the coms, and Lance grinds his teeth.

“ _Lance, are you okay?”_ Allura calls.

Lance breathes – calls back in that cocky attitude, “All a part of my plan, Princess!”

Whatever. He’ll get chewed out later, but whatever.

 _Focus,_ for the love of god, focus.

* * *

 

They’re a little shaken, a little banged up, but the lions are safe in their hangars, and the space castle is still afloat.

Lance rests his head in his palms, and sucks in a shallow breath. His lion hums around him, but it does nothing to settle his nerves.

He really fucked up. He’s letting this affect Voltron, and he remembers Shiro’s rule:

Okay, well, not exactly word for word, but it’s basically _don’t do what Lance just did,_ so.

The speakers fizzle in his lion, and the com pops on with a flicker. Shiro’s voice floods through: _Lance, come see me._

Lance startles in his seat, and sits up, mumbling, “Ah, okay.”

The com buzzes off, and Lance squeezes his eyes shut. Great, great. He’s going to go see Shiro in his lion, where no one can hear him cry.

Walking from the blue hangar, to the black, Lance considers how irrational it is to be afraid – Shiro would never hurt him, no, but his words can sting worse than a sword. Especially when he _lectures,_ ugh.

Lance doesn't even pay attention – just watches his lips as he speaks, studies the light trail of stubble on his cheek, when he forgets to shave.

It’s not _Lance’s_ fault that Shiro is a distracting beacon of sexy.

He steps up to the foot of the black lion, and the anxiety comes back tenfold.

* * *

 

When he’s welcomed in, Shiro is leaning up against the dash, arms folded, eyes glazed over. Lance swallows and wrings his hands behind his back, boots clicking against the floor with a final stop.

“H-hey.”

Shiro turns his way, but his face doesn’t change. “Lance.”

“Look,” Lance begins, “I’m sorry about today.”

Shiro frowns, “You went directly against my orders.”

“I know.”

“You weren’t keeping up with the team.”

“I know.”

Shiro takes a step forward, radiating authority and power, “You put _everyone_ in danger.”

Lance swallows, “I know.”

“When are you going to _listen_ to me?” Shiro takes another step, and Lance takes a step back, trapped by the metal wall of the lion. Shiro is doing that thing again, where his voice sounds super bossy and sexy as hell. “Is this about whatevers been bothering you?”

“N-no.” Lance stammers, “Er, yes? No. It won’t affect Voltron I _promise-_ “

“But it did.” Shiro crosses his arms, and is somehow even closer than before. “So we need to talk.”

Lance presses the palm of his hand up against the smooth metal wall, and swallows. Fuck, a part of this is actually turning him on, which is kinky and totally inappropriate but _shit_ Shiro is so hot it burns him.

_Save me, oh save me, Black Lion._

Shiro presses closer- unravels his arms, and slowly lets them fall between them. They brace on Lance’s hips – his eyes cool into half lidded gems, less angry, more tired. He sighs, “I dont...mean this from a leader standpoint. You know I genuinely care about you, right?"

Shiro's thumbs trace his hipbones, his presence both simultaneously intimidating and comforting. 

Lance glues his eyes to the floor, and summons all his willpower, trying not to lean into his arms.

“Are you sure?” Lance asks, without thinking.

The hands on his hips freeze- eyes widen, and bare down on him with heat. Shiro blinks, “What?”

“Are you sure?” Lance repeats. His heart is in his chest, the wall cool against his back, the lion a sickening silence around them.

“What do you mean?” Shiro sounds appalled, “Is that why-“

“You won’t fuck me.” Lance states, his eyes burning holes in Shiro’s shoulder. “We’ve been dating for months, and every time I try, you never do.”

Shiro’s face flickers through several emotions, way too fast for Lance to decipher which is which. Lance curls up his sweaty palms and breathes out hot, shallow air, a hundred percent sure that Shiro can feel his heartbeat.

“ _Seriously?”_ Shiro grinds, the grip on Lance’s hips growing strong, “That’s why you’re upset?”

“You fuck Keith all the time!” Lance bites back. His chest swells with defense, “I don’t know if that makes me not _special enough_ or what, but I-“

He yelps when hands brace under his thighs, and lift him up against the wall, his back making the metal ring. Shiro’s nose presses into the divot of his shoulder, and his neck, and breathes in hard and heavy.

"Ah!"

“Lance.” Shiro squeezes his thighs, “You never said anything.”

He scrambles, “I didn’t think I had to, dude!"

“I’ve wanted to so bad.” Shiro’s voice rasps with power, “So, so bad.”

Oh.

“God,” Lance breathes, and braces his hands in the back of Shiro’s shirt. “Duh, me too.”

Shiro speaks against his skin, “I don’t play favorites, you know." His thumbs press hard into his thighs, and Lance melts into him, curls, surrenders completely. “I just respect boundaries.”

“I don’t want any.” Lance pants, “Boundaries. I don’t-“ Shiro kisses the junction of his neck, and Lance stammers, “-d-don’t want ‘em. Don’t, not- with, hh, you guys-“

Shiro pulls back, slides his lips up his neck and bites down, not too hard, but enough for his teeth to press into tan skin and burn. Lance tightens his grip and squirms – of _course_ this is making him hard, of course, of course. Lance doesn’t complain too much about being manhandled anymore, mostly because his strength is such a goddamn turn on.

“I’ll fuck you here.” Shiro decides, “Right in my lion.”

He doesn't sound like Shiro - he sounds wrecked, broken, fuckin' _needy_ -

“F-fuck,” Lance rolls his crotch against Shiro’s navel. The layers of their uniform are too thick to feel much, but Lance tries anyway. He breathes, “Isn’t that s-sacrilegious, or something?”

“Don’t care.” Shiro’s mouth moves up to his ear. It hovers there, his breath making Lance shiver. He mumbles, “Lance, you were bad today.”

Lance’s filter falls through the floor. He rolls his body up and opens his mouth and cries, “ _Oh my go~d-“_ right as Shiro lifts his head and kisses the life out of him.

You know, I’d like to call that a figure of speech, but it’s not. Shiro’s lips _coax_ his apart, pressing open and loud, sucking and pushing and counting teeth with his tongue. Lance holds the fuck on, kisses back a little sloppy and unrefined, but Shiro makes up for what he lacks.

“You’re such,” Shiro kisses, “a tease.”

“I’m the tease?” He pants.

“You lack communication skills,” Shiro kisses him more, and more, and breathes, “surprisingly. I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

Lance lets out a little half laugh-moan hybrid, and rolls his crotch against Shiro’s stomach again. The kiss deepens, darkens, rushes past anything they’ve ever done together. Usually that’s Keith’s thing- to slam him against a wall and kiss him till his lips bleed, but now Shiro is pressing harder, stronger, trapping him in and not letting go.

The kisses are loud, air rushing out noses, spit slurping when it’s too much. It’s not even gross. It should be, but it’s not.

The grips on his thighs are bruising, but Lance can only focus on the tongue in his mouth. It licks across his lips and pets his tongue, curling and taking and taking and _taking-_

“What the hell-“ Lance kisses, “-who are you?”

Shiro’s laugh rumbles _through_ him, down Lance's chest, down between his spread legs.

“You’re in for it.” Shiro admits, against his mouth, eyes opening to meet Lances, way, way too close. “You scared me today. You’re definitely, definitely in for it.”

* * *

 

Keith is missing not only one boyfriend, but _two._

He’s seriously searched everywhere; the dining hall, the training arena, the showers, their rooms. Nope, nothing, nada.

He slumps down in his bed, and crosses his arms to pout. He just wanted a fuckin’ nap buddy, but apparently that’s too much to ask for.

Shiro is typically one to disappear, but Lance? Everyone _always_ knows where Lance is. He’s loud as hell.

It’s admittedly adorable, and typically useful at a time like this.

Keith looks at the red helmet sitting at the foot of his bed. He taps his fingers against his thigh.

The thought occurs to him, that he never saw them leave the hangar.

He reaches for his helmet, places it on his head, and watches the display come to life. He goes to call the Black Lion, and grins when the line picks up. The screen flickers on, a blue hue over the visor, the inside of the Black Lion appearing through pixels.

Keith smirks, “Hey.”

* * *

 

Lance can’t really tell up from down. He’s not sure where his pants went, but they’re long fuckin’ gone, with the rest of his uniform.

He feels so exposed like this, grasping for purchase against nothing. The smooth dash of the black lion is all electronic, so as the Lion sleeps, it’s ridge-less, nothing for Lance to hold on to.

He’s not sure where the fuck Shiro found lube, but here Lance is, bent over the dash, two thumbs hooked in his ass, a tongue literally breaking him apart.

Shiro kisses back erotically, and says, “I always have to be prepared with you two.”

Oh, Lance must’ve said that lube part out loud.

He drools against the dashboard, “F-fuck, so you just c-carry lube everywhere with you?”

“Yep.” Shiro nods, and digs his thumbs in deeper,  spreading them far enough for his tongue to sink in even further. Lance’s eyes roll back, and his dick actually jumps against his thigh, where it hangs heavy between his legs. He smacks his forehead against the dash and moans. It’s not his proudest moment, but Shiro’s _tongue,_ fuck, fuck, _fuck._

It wiggles in, squirms far enough and slips back out, teeth sometimes grazing him just to make him shiver. Lance is so fuckin’ hard, goddammit.

"Hhh- ahh!"

Lance lets out a string of words that doesn't make sense, and presses his naked toes harder into the floor.

Except, there’s a buzzing sound. The display, a few inches from Lance’s nose, brightens, Keith’s name popping up on the screen. Shiro leans back, grins, and nips against the skin of Lance’s right asscheek.

“Answer.”

Keith’s face blurs on screen, blinking from the helmet. Lance is there, right _there,_ naked, in front of Keith’s eyes, Shiro kneeling between his spread thighs.

“ _Hey,_ ” Keith smirks.

“Hiya.” Shiro responds, and leans back out of sight to fuck his tongue back into Lance’s stretched hole. Lance’s eyes roll shut and he gasps, forehead unceremoniously smacking against the dash again.

“ _Whatcha’ doin’?”_ Keith teases, settling down in his bed with a knowing grin.

“Not much.” Shiro responds, conversationally, and slips his index finger in along with his tongue.

Lance pants, “F-Fucking seriously guys?”

“ _What’s the occasion_?” Keith smirks.

Shiro licks up Lances crack and bites at his left ass cheek, now leaning back to say, “He was upset because I haven’t b him yet.”

Keith blinks, several emotions flickering through, before settling on anger, “ _Seriously, Lance? That’s why you almost got us killed today_?”

“It’s not nhnn-n just – t-that!” Lance defends, rolling his hips back when Shiro adds another finger. “It was- hah- I thought I-“ Lance groans, his filter buzzing away, “- I wasn’t good enough.”

Shiro’s fingers slow, and Keith mumbles, “ _What?”_

“I dunno’ dude.” Lance pants, “Thought it was something between you and Shiro."

There’s a little pause, where Shiro stills his fingers. Keith blinks, and snaps, “ _Hey. This isn’t just me and Shiro. It’s me, Shiro, and you. No secrets, dude_.”

“I k-know.” Lance rolls his hips back, and Shiro continues, “I just… like, hah, you guys dated first, you know?" 

“Stop.” Shiro mumbles, and adds another digit, metal fingers working Lance to pieces, “It’s the three of us now.”

“ _Exactly.”_

The soberness of the conversation makes Lance feel the strain of his back, and the metal under his chest. It makes a tightness swell around his heart, his knees lock-

“I adore you, Lance.” Shiro mumbles, down against his lower thigh, and curls his fingers right into his prostate. Lance sobs, body jolting, fingers curling up on the dash. He's already so close, Shiro dangling him over the edge, and pulling him back.

 _"Me too_." Keith admits, with a flush.

Lance would really, really like to make some kind of intelligent reply, but the only thing coming out of his mouth is sighs and half moans. Unsurprisingly, it's hard to use your thinkin' brain with fingers up your ass.

“ _Oh ho._ ” Keith studies Shiro's face, and grins, the mood turning hot, _“You’re gonna’ fuck him hard, aren’t you?”_

“Absolutely,” Shiro nods, and drills his fingers in ruthlessly. Lance’s body _burns,_ his mouth opening and drooling, eyes squeezing shut. His toes curl, and his dick leaks a storm onto the floor.

“ _Well, I’ve got the best seat in the house._ ” Keith settles in, “ _Tell me how he’s doing.”_

“Beautifully.” Shiro says, shamelessly, “He opens up so fast.” His fingers twist, and Lance’s body nearly ragdolls against the controls.

“ _He’s so well trained._ ” Keith grins, “ _That little virgin Lance is gone.”_

Lance wants to say something snappy back, but Shiro sucks a deep, bruising hickey into his thigh, and Lance forgets how does words.

“ _He can cum like that, you know._ ”

“Oh I know. Just like you.” Shiro smirks, and Keith coughs, looking away from the camera. Shiro's left hand trails around his hip, smoothing over the jutting hipbone, “But he won’t until I say so.”

_Fuuuuuck._

The lion hums around them, surprisingly silent. Their bond must be incredibly strong, for it to sit by and purr.

Lance digs his fingers into the smooth metal, and opens his mouth, the dam gushing free as his dick physically throbs.

“ _Fuck, fuck, Shiro please!_ ” He reaches back with his left hand to feel the fingers curling at his hip. He desperately paws at him, “Shiro, _S_ _hiro_ I need you." 

Keith laughs on screen, “ _He’s begging.”_

“He’s been bad.”

Lance exhales, “Sh-shiro _please._ ”

“ _Tell him what you need, Lance._ ”

“A tootsie pop,” Lance deadpans. Shiro snorts, and Lance actually whimpers, “Your cock, goddammit! Put it in me!”

“ _He’s getting snappy,_ ” Keith grins. There’s movement, and Lance is ninety percent sure Keith is shoving his hand down his pants. “ _What a bad boy."_

Those words ring loud and hard. Lance freezes - feels his entire body flush red.

Keith and Shiro share this look - it's full of love, and mutual understanding, which is great, but at a time like this-

There’s a loud, residing smack against his ass. Lance physically gasps, and feels a hot wave of arousal wash down his body. He’s a kinky motherfucker; they all are, apparently.

“ _Harder._ ” Keith demands, and Shiro smacks him again. Lance drools onto the table and trembles, his legs hardly holding him as it is. Keith's voice cracks, " _Fuck yeah."_

His ass stings, his dick throbs, sweat drips from Lance’s nose, to the dashboard, and his breathing puffs out in forced labor.

“Beautiful.” Keith and Shiro say, together.

* * *

 

When Shiro fucks into him, Lance is sure he sees god. Shiro doesn’t worm his way in, and wait for Lance to adjust. He grips Lance up by his thighs, hovers him off the ground, pushes him up farther on the dashboard and _slams_ in, bottoming out, letting Lance actually scream.

“ _Ahh! Shiro!”_

He pulls back, breathes, and snaps back in, cock hard, and slick, and what Lance has actually dreamed about. He’s had that dick in his mouth, okay, he’s got it _memorized._

Shiro throbs against his prostate, and lets his weight fall, hands pressing next to Lance’s, bodyweight forcing him flush against the control panel. Lance yelps as his dick is squished, hard as hell, unable to get friction this way.

Then Shiro pulls back. _Then,_ oh, then, does Lance sob, as the pace becomes brutal. A back and forth, in and out up and down Lance is so lost, so gone already, dizzy and hard, his head full of Shiro.

“ _Fuck._ ” Keith pants, through the coms, “ _Like that, Shiro.”_

Shiro’s metal hand scrapes against the dash, and his breath is hot and heavy in Lance’s ear.

Lance’s mouth becomes a floodgate, a mudslide, a continuous flow of complete and utter garbage. Half moans, half names, yelps and sobs and deep inhales. With every thrust, Lance slides up on the panel.

_Oh my god Shiro, Shiro, I can't, fuck- h-harder! I-_

The lion hums around them, the room fills with sweat and sex.

 _“Feels good, doesn’t he?_ ” Keith prods, his voice doing literal wonders for Lance. He's out of breath, but Keith still has that raspy tone that keeps Lance stiff at night. 

“Unreal.” Shiro answers, and bites into Lance’s shoulder with a muffled groan.

Lance cries, “Keith, y-you fucker.”

“ _What did I do?”_

 _“_ You’re not hnhg- h-here.” Lance’s eyes roll back.

“ _Oh, don’t worry.”_ Keith says, “ _I’ll fuck that mouth later.”_

Lance moans, loud and choked, and Shiro’s cock fucks up harder. Lance’s nails scratch, Shiro nips him ruthlessly.

Keith has fucked Lance plenty of times – hard too. Keith has an amazing sense of rhythm - he has this way of fucking Lance silly.  But oh ho, Shiro is _stronger._ Way, way stronger, and his dick his bigger, and he’s filling Lance up, too much, too hard, like an overflowing shotglass.

The burn has edged away, gone, only leaving hot washes and blood throbbing with every thrust. Shiro’s small, breathy gasps burn Lance, scorch him, permanently sizzle his skin. 

Lance braces there and takes it. He’s not even holding himself up, relying solely on Shiro’s strong upward thrusts. A hand comes down to brace under his thigh and spread him wider, half holding him there. The angle lets him press harder, lets him _destroy_ Lance.

“ _Beautiful.”_ Keith sighs, “ _Shiro, you’re so good. Fuck him harder.”_

Shiro is slowly losing his words, his ability to speak. Lance barely registers it, he’s aching, dying – he _needs_ to come, needs it, like, yesterday, but he’s losing himself.

He didn’t expect it to be like this – the first time having sex with Shiro. He expected maybe soft, gentle missionary sex. Lot’s of kissing and pretty words.

Ha, this is so much better.

“God Shiro!” Lance cries out, “ _I need-“_

Shiro’s hand reaches between them, but doesn’t touch his cock, instead, sliding across a nipple as he bites at the back of Lance's neck, and sucks. 

“ _What a cockslut."_ Keith praises, “ _You were born to be fucked, Lance. Made for it. The cameras let me see everything, you know, like the hole you’re biting in your lip, and your ass stretched around Shiro’s cock. You can’t hide anything from me now, Lance._ ”

And Lance comes just like that, so surprised, so in shock, that his forehead smacks really, really hard into the dashboard, and his entire body curls up and shakes. It’s wretched out of him, sobbing, crying a mixture of Shiro and Keith’s names. He’s wet, he’s a mess, he’s sore and aching and _burning,_ a coil sprung free, wave after wave, physical tears.

But Shiro doesn’t stop. He stands back up on the ground, braces his hands at the top of Lance’s back, and fucks the _hell_ out of him.

Lance can’t even respond, can’t make noise, he’s railed over, and over, he _burns._

 _“Shiro!"_ Lance's voice cracks, overspent, overdone, sizzled and burnt and lit again.

There’s a choked off noise from Keith’s end. Lance looks up in time to see his face as he comes, eyes shut, hair sticking to his forehead. So beautiful, so, so beautiful.

Shiro looks up too, palm braced on Lance’s tan, sweaty upper back. He watches Keith – shivers as well, his ruthless pace faltering.

“Over my head," Shiro mumbles, “with you two.”

“Come on, Shiro.” Lance pants, sweaty and sticky, and still shameless, “Shiro, Shiro-“

Fingertips press into his back, trace his spine, and then press harder, hips snapping up rough enough for Lance to gasp.

And uh, Shiro’s aim is actually incredible, because he nails Lance’s prostate, and his entire body _jolts._

 _“Fuck! Fuck!”_ Lance cries, sobs, shrieks, as his body convulses once more. His vision whites, Shiro’s body curls, and Lance thinks he might’ve lost consciousness.

But he hears Keith’s raspy voice, “ _L-Lance! Oh, g-god, fu-fuck- did you just-“_

When he comes to, Lance curls his toes and feels his dick throb, physically sore, everything sore- Shiro’s mouth pants against his ear,  and Lance realizes that it’s all over.

The lion hums, and the mood stills.

Even with Shiro still buried in him, Lance can feel how much Shiro fucking came, it slickly running down his thighs. Lance closes his eyes and breathes, desperately trying not to get hard _again._ Holy hell. Holy fuckin’ hell.

“ _I…Lance,”_ Keith begins, “ _I didn’t know you could d-do that.”_

Lance can’t manage a response. His mind is buzzing, ears fuzzy, eyes clouded over. Shiro pulls out, and everything is suddenly a whole lot wetter.

“My god," Shiro mumbles, eyes scanning the scratches, bites, bruises, sweat and hickeys sweeping from his neck, to his thighs.

“I’m dead.” Lance mumbles, “Goodbye.”

Shiro’s voice rumbles with a half laugh, and his hands sweep lovingly down to his hips, slowly lifting him to roll him back over.

Lance meets his eyes, clouded over in post orgasm haze, but sees him nonetheless. Shiro looks as wrecked as he, hair a mess, sweaty, exhausted, pants still rolled halfway down his ass.

Keith mumbles a few cursewords through the coms, before saying, “ _Don’t move. I’ll be there in five,”_ and hanging up.

* * *

 

Lance is thoroughly scrubbed down in the shower. He doesn’t even have anything snarky to say – he’s just silent, as Keith holds him up, and Shiro runs a loofa between his thighs.

It’s mildly concerning, probably, because Lance never shuts the fuck up – but Lance has nothing to _say._

He’s so buzzed, so sedated.

However, he does manage to choke out _I love you guys_ , as he's held up by two sets of arms, and kissed clean.

His brain barely registers a - _ve you too._

He comes to when they’re in bed, squished together, between Shiro and Keith. A nice Sheith sandwich. 

“Hmm.” Lance purrs, and squirms to press his cheek against Keith’s bare shoulder, “Imma’ feel that tomorrow.” His forehead especially aches, from banging it so many damn times. 

“I’m sorry.” Shiro says, without warning, “I should've…our first…we…” He pauses, and then says, “I should’ve been gentler.”

Lance rolls over to meet his eye, “Are you kidding? Dude, that was like something out of a wet dream. Or like, a porno.” Seriously, no kidding. That’s JO material for like, months.

Keith laughs behind him, and rolls closer, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and staying there.

Shiro’s face flushes, the scar burning bright, “Yeah, but-“

“Thanks.” Lance grins, and peppers his cheeks in kisses, “For puttin’ up with me.”

“I don’t want you to feel like that again.” Shiro admits, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Keith says, against his ear, “This relationship thing is supposed to be open.”

“I just wasn’t sure what to say.” Lance shrugs.

“A first.”

Lance jabs his elbow back, and Keith grunts out a laugh, squirming when Lance turns to slap playfully at his arm.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

“Oh I never shut up, huh?” Lance laughs, “Mister _I wanna fuck your mouth-_ “

“Lance!” Keith rolls, Lance going with him, tumbling off the side of the bed. Shiro closes his eyes, and presses his face into the pillow, sighing when he hears a chorus of _ow ow  my hair stop-_ and – _hey ow no dick punches!_

Shiro does look up, however, and smile when the fighting stops, and Lance bares down on Keith, kissing him like a starved man at sea.

Shiro props his head up in his hand, and gazes down at them, watching until Lance meets his eye, the kiss breaking with a pop.

“Next time,” Shiro decides, “I’ll be gentler.”

“Pff.” Keith sputters from under Lance, “No way. Next time, we’re spitroasting the _fuck_ out of you.” Keith runs his hands up Lance’s thighs, and the taller blushes down beneath his collar.

Ah, but Lance grins, “Oh, really now? I actually think it's _your_ turn Mister Filthy Mouth."

Keith flushes red, mouth opening and closing. Lance meets Shiro's gaze, and they simutaniously grin.

 Shiro rolls off the bed and Lance worms his hands into Keith's armpits, laughing as Keith squeals. Shiro holds holds him down, laughing too as Lance wrangles Keith's shirt up to his collarbone, and blows rasberries into his stomach. 

"Stop! Ahahha- stop!" Keith laughs, wiggling and kicking, struggling against Shiro's hold. "This ahaha- isn't fair!"

Lance grins, and sputters against Keith's belly, watching his chest rise and fall as he laughs. Shiro dips down to shower Keith's cheeks in kisses, small, quick ones that are too sweet, too cute.

Pidge opens the door to call them for dinner, but closes it, and walks away without being noticed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ,,,, *eyes emoji* 
> 
>  sorry this took so long, i got busy w/ my other shklance fic;; 
> 
> but really, thanks guys for all the kudos and comments, like seriously


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaay bonus chapter

It’s been one year.

One whole year since Lance got thrown over Shiro’s shoulder, dragged through a hallway like a sack of potatoes, then kissed against a wall and fuckin’ double teamed.

It’s kind of bittersweet. There’s no four seasons in space (duh), so seeing the date reach closer and closer… ah fuck it, Lance is a huge sap. He wants to hold their hands through spring and swim in the summer and show them the large maple trees that turn orange in the fall. He wants to give presents at the holidays, dude. Giving presents is the _best._

So that’s why Lance is distraught. It’s just one problem after the other, with Lance.

He sits down one day at the dining table – nabs a pen and paper from Coran, ‘cause like, it’s not like he’ll _need it-_ and begins to brainstorm what he can give them.

He runs out of ideas after _space rock, space tree,_ and _this pen I stole from Coran._

Lance isn’t that lame, okay, but it’s not like they’re making dough off these rescue missions. At best, their reward is Not Dying™.

So Lance has to get creative. Make a list of what he’s good at.

Talking? No. Shooting? No.

Uh, 1 Free Backrub?  Nah, that sounds stupid – even if Lance’s backrubs are A1.

Lance sighs, and presses his cheek against the table.

Maybe he shouldn’t give them anything. Keith and Shiro _were_ dating before him.

But…their relationship means a lot to him. Lance is a funny guy – he likes to make jokes – but he really just wants to give them _something._

* * *

 

The room is calm, the castle silently floating through space. Lance sits contently in Shiro’s lap, Keith’s headphones around his neck. They’re on the common room couch, enjoying the peace of _not_ currently being attacked right now.

The last mission was pretty brutal – they thought it’d be a nifty idea to step in and free a whole cargo bay of prisoners, and, well, Lance spent three days in the healing pod. It’s cool.

Keith shifts below him – Lance keeps his hands steady. Keith sits between his legs on the floor, fingers deftly playing with a knife and some chunk of alien-wood he found.

“Sit still,” Lance huffs, and tugs on his hair.

Keith grunts, “Dude, ow.”

“You have such a sensitive head,” Lance says, and tugs again. Keith makes a little growling noise, but Lance finds it cute. He continues to braid his hair – it’s something he hasn’t done since home, and it’s oddly comforting in a sense. It took some negotiating, but Keith reluctantly agreed, and now-

 _Now,_ Keith comes to _him_ asking to have his hair braided. Lance feels like a proud mama bird. This must be what it’s like to be Shiro.

He uses a rubber band to tie off the braid. It’s not very long, but it looks cute. Keith has lots of layers, so a few frame his face. He gives Keith a final pat on the head, and says, “All done.”

Keith turns around and smiles, “Thanks.” He reaches over and kisses Lance’s knee through his jeans. Even now, after all this time, Lance’s heart squeezes. Shiro snores peacefully behind him, arms still tight around his waist.

Fuck, he loves them _so_ much.

Lance has three days.

* * *

 

When Allura said _we’re stopping for supplies,_ Lance felt a ridiculous amount of hope.

It’s some space port lined with vendors. They sell weird things, like spiked fruit and odd twisty lamps that float through the air.

He rocks on the balls of his feet, grinning excitedly – but reality hits, and says, _bruh you broke,_ and Lance is back at square one.

“Hey,” Shiro prods, gently offering his palm, “what’s wrong?”

“I wish we had money, dude.” Lance takes his hand and squeezes it. Shiro’s human palm is callused, his fingers the same length as Lance’s.

Shiro hums, “I’m sure if you really wanted something, Allura would give you money for it.”

“Man, I don’t wanna’ be a schmooze, you know?”

“Wow, a first time for everything,” Keith says, like a know it all. Lance sticks out his tongue, and Keith playfully snaps his teeth.

“Come on,” Shiro smiles, and gently pulls on his hand. “We have a few hours. Let’s go explore, yeah?”

Keith’s fiery little eyes light up, before he takes Lance’s other hand and leads them away.

Lance doesn’t buy anything – but he appreciates the time away from the castle, trying on weird space hats and stealing every food sample along the way.

* * *

They’re flying back from a mission when Lance makes up his mind. Shiro is saying something – fuck if Lance knows what – but he focuses on Keith’s face on the coms. He’s not listening either, obviously, because he’s smiling, lolling around in the sound of Shiro’s voice.

Lance knows that face. That’s Keith’s - _I’m gonna fuck the h e l l out of you when we get back_ – face.

Yes. They may have limited resources, but Lance can do the one thing he’s good at.

* * *

 

“Can you believe how long it’s been?” Keith asks, Shiro’s hand calmly in his own.

“Not at all,” Shiro says. “It’s gone so fast, you know?”

“Definitely,” Keith agrees. “Do you think we’ll ever stop back at Earth?”

Shiro hesitates, “You…you know it’s too dangerous to draw attention there.”

It’s the cold truth. Zarkon can’t have any reason to attack Earth. Keith knows it – he doesn’t even have anything to _return for, but-_

“Yeah…” Keith looks away.

Shiro stops walking, and Keith is jolted with the action. He turns to look at Shiro – who gazes through him, like only Shiro can. “Keith.”

“What?”

“We’ll see Earth soon,” Shiro reaches up to brush his thumb beneath his eye. “I promise.”

Keith sighs, “I know…I just… I want to be able to celebrate shit, you know?” Was that too sappy? Probably.

“I know,” Shiro kisses him, super sweet and strong. Keith relaxes into him, and squeezes the hand he still holds. When they part Shiro says, “Maybe we can get Allura to stop by somewhere, for just a few hours.”

Keith feels himself grin, and pulls Shiro into walking again, “Let’s go ask Lance.”

“He’s been especially mopey,” Shiro follows along. “I think he’s homesick.”

Keith frowns. He’s noticed a mopey Lance too – and honestly, it’s nice when Lance decides to shut the fuck up for five minutes, but, when _Lance_ isn’t happy, nobody’s happy. They’ve been living under the same roof for almost two years. They’ve got this shit on lockdown.

Keith pushes the button to their room, and slides open the door. Six months ago they said fuck it, and pushed two of their beds together, making enough room for the three of them. They don’t really sleep apart anymore anyways. They’ve had too many close calls – they’re too far from humanity, to not spend their nights so close.

The door opens with a soft _swish._ Light floods the room, and then disappears, just like that.

Keith pats around for the light switch, and feels Shiro hook his cool, metal fingers into his waistband. Shiro doesn’t like the dark. He’s not _afraid,_ he just, doesn’t like it, rightfully so.

Keith flicks on the lamp, and nearly has a goddamn heart attack.

Lance is on the bed, face buried in _Keith’s_ pillow, making soft, breathy noises. He’s got these Nike tube socks pulled up his calves, and Shiro’s baggy shirt hangs off his body like a dress – but that’s not even the best part. He’s about two fingers deep in his ass right now, thrusting them casually, like it’s something mundane.

“ _Good god,_ ” Shiro manages behind him, “Lance…what…”

“Oh, hey.” Lance turns up to look at them, and the smug little bastard smiles. “You guys took a long time in the shower.”

“Yeah, uh…” Shiro trails off, and Keith almost laughs, because Shiro is actually speechless. His mouth is slightly parted, fists clenching, and unclenching at his sides.

“Happy anniversary, yo,” Lance pulls his fingers back, and the lube squishes lewdly. “Come fuck my ass.” 

Oh god.

The lube drips down the back of Lance’s thighs; his long fingers _just_ let him reach, and it’s completely captivating.

Lance is undeniably stunning in his own odd ways. He's grown into himself, long torso, longer legs, but he's less skin and bones and a little more muscle. The way he moves is addicting, clumsy and graceful all the same. His brown hair sticks to tan skin - blue eyes look his way, cold and sharp like ice.  

Keith is momentarily frozen where he stands, but Shiro apparently has _no_ regrets about climbing onto the bed, and sitting up on his knees, wrapping his arms around Lance’s thighs and shoving his tongue so far up Lance’s ass, that Lance actually sobs.

And at that, Keith kicks off his shoes, and practically dives into the bed.

* * *

 

Lance thought, worst case scenario, they’d be like, _nah, not tonight,_ or something, and Lance would go eh, A for effort-

But Shiro is _bruising_ his thighs, fingers digging in hard, holding his ass up high enough for Shiro to fuck the _life_ out of him with his tongue. Lance’s head lolls into Keith’s lap, eyes rolling back, body going completely limp.

Keith rakes his nails through his hair- something that they found _really_ gets Lance going. Lance breathes out hard, and noses into Keith’s crotch, whining high in his throat.

“You started this,” Keith smirks.

 _“Ahh-hn_ ,” Lance rolls his hips back, “I, _hah,_ I know what I’m doing _mmn_ -Keith.”

“So this is for our anniversary, hm?” Shiro licks flat across his hole, and Lance nearly cries. He’s fully hard now, and it’s making his brain fuzzy already.

“Yep,” Lance pants, “I’m such a _ahh-_ selfless person.”

Keith and Shiro laugh. Hands squeeze his thighs. Nails rake through his hair.

Keith’s voice thrums low, “Mm, and what is it you want from us?”

Lance noses into Keith’s crotch, and feels him half hard against his jeans. He mouths across his clothed cock and says, “Use me.”

Keith lets out a guttural groan, smoothing his hands around Lance’s neck, and up his cheeks, until he’s supporting his forehead. Shiro bites hard into the flesh of his ass, and Lance chokes, naturally flinching.

_“Ah!”_

“We can do that,” Shiro purrs.

And, you know, Shiro is really good at maneuvering them in bed. Probably because he can just,  pick them up like it’s no fucking problem.  He handles Lance like a toy, flipping him on his back, laying over his chest and fisting a hand in his hair so hard, Lance keens.

Shiro is a tough kisser when he wants to be. Lance wants to fight back – pull his hair, grind up and whine and moan – but tonight he’s _their_ toy, so he lays there and takes it. Shiro tastes like lube, but it’s not a turnoff in the slightest. It’s just dirty, tongues and spit and everything else.

Keith has discovered that if he crawls around to the other side, he can lay across what Shiro doesn’t currently cover, and bite the hell out of Lance’s hipbones. They say _Lance_ is the one obsessed with running his mouth, but Lance would beg to differ.

It’s a pattern of biting, and sucking, licking across his navel and nipping wherever he can. Lance yips when Keith chomps, purrs when he tugs the skin back and sucks.

Ninety percent of Lance’s brain power is going towards kissing right now – it’s warm, and feels really good, especially when Shiro licks across his lips, his teeth, fucks in hard and softly licks out. They slickly part, they wetly kiss.

“Beautiful,” Shiro praises, and makes Lance’s body squirm up and thrust.

“I know you are but what am I?” Lance pants out. He looks up at Shiro, who's so, so close. His scar is smooth, and a flushed red, lips a little swollen. 

Keith rolls his eyes, and nips his hip.

“What goes through that head of yours?” Shiro asks, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his adam’s apple-

“Mnn, I-hah, I feel like I’m always,” he tips his head back, “ahh, deciding what we do. I just want to mmm- do whatever you guys want.”

“What if we wanna’ bruise you?” Keith purrs, and then nips, “What if you bleed?”

Fuck, Lance’s balls hurt like hell from being this hard. He was so incredibly close minutes ago, and now his dick is just throbbing mercilessly – but Lance breathes in. Says _happy one year!_ and ignores the burn.

“Please,” Lance croaks – and Keith runs his nails down his bare thigh, scratching the skin, little bubbles of blood popping up. Lance chokes out a noise; _fuck_ it hurts, but it feels really good-

It seems like Keith is running his hands over everything he can reach; he smooths around his knee, claws at his hip, squeezes his balls and runs the palm of his hand over Lance’s dickhead. Lance burns, and boils alive.

“That’s a lot of power,” Shiro muses, and kisses into his shoulder. “What should we do?”

“I think he should be our dog,” Keith says, his voice sharp, and piercing. Lance feels his body tremble involuntarily, and Shiro leans up on his arms to look him in the eye.

“Oh?” Shiro teases, “Like a good boy?”

 _Ooooh fuck,_ there it is.

They sure do like to rub that in his face, don’t they? The praise thing. It’s not like _Lance_ takes advantage of Keith’s thigh fetish, or Shiro’s obsession with eating ass-

But Keith moves up to kiss around the base of his cock, and Shiro decides to lick into his mouth, and Lance loses all sense of time.

“You have to do whatever~ we say, then.” Keith mumbles.

 “Gladly.”

“Good boy,” Shiro mouths, and changes everything.

* * *

 

Shiro’s long shirt isn’t enough to hide how badly Lance is tenting. His knees rub against the carpet, his free hand fisted atop his thigh, where it burns from Keith’s nails.

Shiro and Keith sit side by side on the edge of the bed, hands enraptured in each other, kissing lazy and slow.

Lance shifts on his knees, and breathes in. His lips are stretched lewdly, nose buried in Keith’s navel – his left hand works around Shiro in easy strokes, made even easier through the spit still there.

Lance can’t deny _not_ liking the musky smell of dick. It’s just, become something so important to his life, that it brings him to tears.

He likes sucking cock, okay. It’s cool. But like, Lance is _stupid_ hard, like _stuuuupid_ hard. He didn’t expect his own plan to backfire like this – who knew that Lance had a kink for being a sub.

Haha…ha.

Lance looks up at the faces above him – and they’re beautiful, honestly. Keith kisses Shiro hot and practiced, lips sliding, heads tipping perfectly. Lance loves the way Shiro’s eyelids flutter – adores how Keith will occasionally shiver.

But they’re _ignoring_ Lance, and it’s driving him crazy.

He writhes his tongue around Keith’s cock – he watches for the hitch in his breath, before pulling back, and slurping lewdly. He twists his wrist, and tries to keep a steady rhythm.

They kiss slower, more romantically.

Lance huffs around the dick in his mouth, and pops off. He wiggles over on his knees and switches, pulling Shiro against his lips and wrapping his hand around Keith.

They’re biting back their reactions – it’s fine, Lance agreed to do _whatever_ they say, but, he can still play fuckin’ dirty.

Slowly, he licks from base to tip. He rubs his tongue into the slit, swirls around the head and sinks down halfway. Shiro breathes out hard – Lance bobs up and down, tongue flat in his mouth. Mm, Shiro always feels super good against his tongue; he stretches his lips, pushes his limit.

Lance wiggles his hips a little, and resists the urge to jerk off ridiculously fast.

He hums around Shiro, drools hard and bobs, soft and practiced. He sucks, and uses his free hand to wrap around Shiro’s base. He pulls back just enough to smirk, before opening his mouth wide, and slipping his cockhead into the skin of his inside cheek, barely grazing him with his teeth.

Shiro _jerks_ away from Keith, gasping hard and moaning deep in his throat. A hot, flushing wave of arousal sweeps down Lance, coiling in his gut like a snake. Making Shiro moan is like, some serious cocaine, dude. Keith’s eyes fly open, and _yes_ they’re watching, yes, yes.

 Lance pulls back, innocently locks eyes with Shiro, and then _geronimo,_ he dives the fuck in. Shiro hits the back of his throat, and Lance lets his gag reflex work around his dick.

 _“Ohh, fuck,_ ” Shiro grunts, as his eyes squeeze shut, and his head falls back. _“Ah, shit-_ “

Lance sits there and swallows around him, slowly bobbing his head, breathing hard through his nose.

“Beautifully done,” Keith coos – he reaches over to push his bangs back, and the motion makes Lance burn hot. “So good.”

Lance hums, and pulls back, popping off Shiro and wiping away the drool on his lips. There’s a level of satisfaction that comes with watching Shiro’s dick spring back to his thigh like a rubber band. Shiro is flushed, cheeks red, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Lance smugly waddles back over to Keith, and rubs his cock against his slick lips.

“You still never cease to surprise me,” Shiro says, in broken English. Lance pumps him in his hand, and feels smug when he actually throbs in his palm.

“He’s filthy, is what he is,” Keith groans, swallowing hard and closing his eyes.

“Whaat, me?” Lance teases, “I’m just a dog.”

Keith and Shiro simultaneously inhale; Lance feels undoubtedly proud. Ahh, ah, everything feels _so good._ He opens his mouth wide to pull Keith back in again, but a hand grips the back of his hair hard, and yanks him back with a rough tug. Lance yelps, his throat baring bruises and bite marks from Shiro. 

Keith holds his head strong, and growls, “Stop that.”

Lance freezes – his hands still – and realization hits him. He pulls his hand away from where it was wrapped around his own cock. God, he wasn’t even thinking about it; he’s just _that hard-_

“We didn’t say you could touch yourself,” Shiro says. His voice sounds gravely, like sand. Like, wet dream material. Wet dream sand. Lance keens, and shifts his hips.

“S-Sorry, but d-dude you had your tongue up my ass. I’m _still-_ “

Keith’s other hand smooths across his cheek, and thumbs beneath his eye, “You’re a bad dog.”

Lance’s shivers; Shiro and Keith share a look.

Keith is the one to smooth a hand around the back of his head, now softer, and much more kind. He says, “C’mere,” He tugs gently, ushering Lance up higher on his knees. “Up, up.”

Lance follows the movement; he’s not sure why. Usually he’s demanding. Sometimes feisty. Wrestling them in bed and loudly declaring what he wants, but –

It’s addictive. To be told what to do.

Keith cradles his face in his hands, and leans down close enough to whisper against his lips, “Look at me.”

Lance does; he can see Keith’s pupils, dilated and beautifully brown.

Keith kisses him, lovely, and smooth. Sweet, like sugar, but he also tastes like Shiro. Lance knows – he could call out their tongues in a lineup any day.

“Good.” Keith purrs, “Listen to everything I say.”

* * *

 

Lance is boiling. He’s past the point of thinking like a normal human being.

They throw him around. Pin his arms. Bite his thighs and ride his face. They nip into his shoulders and _use him,_ use him, so so good –

Lance comes, totally by accident, mind you, but he gets thrown across Shiro’s knee and spanked for it.

 _“Count,_ ” he’s told, so he does, _one, two, three, four-_

It’s maddening. They rake nails down his chest and bite him until he’s theirs – until Lance is begging _fuck me, fuck me, please, god, fuck me-_

Shiro and Keith have the stamina of a god, but even _their_ patience is wearing thin. Lance can feel it in the way they nip and bite and rut against him sloppily.

It changes, the moment Shiro flips him onto his hands and knees and rubs his cock against the cleft of his ass. He grips Lance’s hip and sighs, body rolling, _still_ teasing.

Keith kneels by Lance’s face.

Lance’s face lights up like it’s Christmas.

“Oooh yes, yes, yes,” Lance purrs, “ _Please,_ please, please-“

“I’m going to shut you up,” Keith decides, fisting a hand in his hair, “Fuck your mouth so hard you’ll never talk again.”

Lance looks up and grins, “You’ve played right into my hand, you fool.”

“I hate how much I adore you,” Keith says. “Absolutely despise it.”

Shiro’s dick slides halfway in. Lance’s cock gives a pathetic throb. He breathes out hard through his nose and chokes, “I love you too.”

Keith’s eyes soften – out of whatever this scene is, and into the moment. He rakes his nails through Lance’s hair. Mumbles, “Gorgeous,” and shifts closer. Lance opens his mouth – Keith fucks in, and that’s that.

It’s horribly filthy, being filled from both ends like this. Keith is heavy against his tongue, Shiro is _huge_ in his ass. He loves it. _Loooves_ it. Honestly, this is more of an anniversary present to himself, but, whatever. No harm no foul.

Shiro fucks in at the same time as Keith and _ohh god,_ Lance could come like this. Again.

He drools, eyes fluttering shut. His body shakes with every thrust from Shiro – the momentum meets him at the snap of Keith’s hips. Lance gags, and moans, whines and cries a little bit, because _yeah, it burns_ but also _please tattoo this moment on his body-_

The turn of events leading him here is bizarre.

  * Abducted by a giant blue cat
  * Given, said giant blue cat
  * Made a paladin of Voltron
  * Now getting spitroasted by his boyfriends.



It totally makes sense.

Shiro’s hips snap beautifully. His grip is bruising, but Lance wouldn’t have it any other way. The slap of skin is almost pornographic, as thighs meet thighs.

Keith babbles, because Lance can’t, a mantra of _“Yes, fuck, oh fuck, Lance, you’re good, so good- “_

His gut twists with the praise. His moans are gargled around the cock in his mouth. His body _trembles_ when Shiro moans. Lance is affected by the tiniest things, his senses heightened – he feels the hands in his hair, the sweat down his back, the bruises on his hips, the _cock_ grinding against his _prooostattee- fuuuuck-_

Lance is gone, floating away, leaving this bane of existence to chill with the kais. His orgasm is _ripped_ from him, albeit, maybe a little violently. He clenches down on Shiro, and is rewarded with a broken _“L-Lance ahh-_ “

Lances body shakes and convulses, rolling into every muscle spasm. Keith pulls out to let him breathe, in which Lance sucks in air, and feels involuntary tears roll down his cheeks.

“Oh, baby,” Keith whispers, and reaches down to wipe them away. “You okay?”

Lance isn’t sure what syllables make up the precise words needed to respond. He’s not even sure if he remembers what the word syllable means. Shiro lovingly rubs a hand around his lower back. That feels super good.

“I’m cool,” Lance pants, eyes still watering from the sting. After Lance can fucking _breathe_ again, he opens up his mouth obediently.

Keith looks him over, burns him, with his eyes. He looks destroyed, hair a mess, naked body flushed. He’s beautiful, and everything Lance loves. 

Keith swallows, and slips his cock past his tongue, “I’m close, Lance. I’m, _ah-_ “

Lance focuses all his energy into wiggling his tongue and sucking hard. Keith chokes out several words, none of which make sense, before he squirms and barks _“Ah, Lance!”_

“Keith,” Shiro purrs, low and knowing, “he’s got you.”

And Keith comes like that, writhing and utterly stunning. Lance swallows what he can, which is effectively everything, thanks.

Lance is exhausted. Stretched. Beyond sedated. But he _always_ has enough energy for Shiro-

So he rolls around and hugs him to his chest, kissing the daylights out of him and begging for more.

* * *

 

They’re a real picture.

Lance is effectively useless, so Shiro was doomed to do the walk of shame down to the bathroom, literally reeking of sex.

He comes back with wet hand towels – he tosses one to Keith, and uses the other to wipe Lance down.

Lance sticky as fuck, but Shiro running a towel down his chest and between his legs feels stupid great. He pulls on boxers and calls it a day – makes grabby hands at Shiro until he lays down and pulls him on his chest. Shiro’s chest was _made_ for laying on. There’s no other reason for his shoulders to be that broad.

Keith shrugs on Shiro’s sweatpants, which are way too big, but crawls alongside them anyways.

“You okay?” Shiro asks, because Lance hasn’t started talking yet.

“I’m goooood,” Lance purrs. He impatiently tugs on Keith’s arm; Keith gladly pulls the blanket up, and scoots closer.

The room slowly cools down. Lance might’ve drifted off, once or twice, but the hand drawing circles on his hip is grounding.

“So it’s been a year, huh?” Keith mumbles.

“Mmhmm.”

“That’s what all this was about?”

“Mmm.”

“Sorry I didn’t get you anything,” Keith says, voice lowering.

Lance snorts, “Oh ho, you did, don’t worry.”

Shiro’s chest shakes beneath him with silent laughter. Lance nuzzles into his shoulder and breathes in.

“Honestly…” Lance yawns, “I didn’t expect anything. Like, you two got together way before I nosed my way in.”

Shiro frowns, “Do you really feel that way?”

“What?”

“That you’re an add-on.”

“Well, I technically _am-_ “

“We’ll celebrate it all today from now on,” Keith decides.

“Huh?”

“It’s not about just _Shiro_ and I,” Keith flicks his forehead, and Lance mumbles _ow-_ “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“But-“

“Shut up and go to sleep this is what we’re doing.”

Lance laughs, and blindly pats around for Keith’s hand, until he finds it. They doze off until Coran comes by, kicking down the door and announcing dinner.

* * *

 

It’s not until the next day, that Lance stands in front of the mirror, fresh out of the shower. Keith and Shiro throw on their uniforms behind him – but Lance runs his hands across bite marks, red lines and bruises. His hipbones are littered in little purple circles; his collarbone is just a mess.

Lance smirks, and runs a hand up his neck. Thank god the uniforms are turtlenecks, Jesus fuck.

His chest looks like it was mauled by a cat. Technically he _could_ step inside the healing pod, but where’s the fun in that?

Keith walks past him, half dressed, and swats his ass, “Get dressed. There’s a distress beacon.”

“Pfft,” Lance sputters, turning around, and batting his eyelashes. He places his hands over his chest like he’s wearing a bra and says, “Look what you guys did to me~ You barbarians.” He wiggles, “Aren’t you gonna’ kiss it all better?”

Shiro snorts as he shrugs on the armor, but Keith only raises an eyebrow. He reaches forwards, and gently tugs his hands away, looking at the way his wrists are purple and bruised. They’re in the form of two, very Shiro-shaped handprints.

Keith slowly brings Lance's wrist to his lips. Lance goes surprisingly still.

But Keith draws his arms apart, like a bird, and swoops in to bite his right nipple and tug.

“Ah!” Lance jolts, “Keith!”

He pulls back fast enough to dodge a punch from Lance – and laughs as he bolts to the other side of the room.

“J-Jerk!” Lance laughs, “That was the only part of me that _wasn’t_ bruised.”

“I know, I fixed it.”

Shiro is shaking his head, but he’s smiling – so, Lance figures he can let it go this time.

* * *

 

“Dude.” Lance calls, “Where are we going? Everyone is back there-“

 _“It’s just a pit stop,”_ Shiro says through the coms, flying his black lion ahead of them.

“But-“

Keith barks, _“Stop complaining, god._ ”

Lance smirks, and babbles as he flies his lion, _“_ Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we- _ahh!_ ” Lance jolts, as Keith rams his lion into the back of Lance’s. “Hey!”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

Lance huffs, and turns back to following Shiro. They’re flying somewhere strange – it’s an odd planet, with pink grass and clear white skies. Still, the trees are green and beautiful; alien birds fly beneath them.

They stopped for a rescue mission. Some unfortunate travelers that lit a distress beacon – and no, Lance did _not_ try to woo the cute girl this time.

Shiro’s lion pulls towards the ground. Lance follows, and listens for Keith behind him.

They’re at the mouth of a cave. It’s enormous – big enough for their lions to walk through.

“What the hell?” Lance tips his head to look at the crystalized rocks on the ceiling. “Where are we?”

“ _Stop asking questions,”_ Shiro says, but Lance can hear the smile in his voice. “We’re here.”

Lance pops out of the mouth of his lion. He slides off his helmet, and tucks it under his arm, and – _holy shit!_

“Hot springs!” Lance shouts, dropping his helmet and raising his hands above his head. “Woah!”

They’re beautiful – there’s six, large pools of warm water. They swirl, and feed into each other. Light illuminates from the crystals above them, almost like stars.

Lance bounces back and forth on his feet, “Woah! Woah! I wish I had my phone dude!”

Keith walks up to him and smiles, “Shiro and I found this place looking for those refugees.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lance grins.

“Well?” Shiro pops off his helmet, “Are you going to get in, or what?”

Lance dramatically gasps, and whispers, _“I can go in?!”_

Keith nudges him with a grin, “Yeah, Allura gave us three hours.”

 _“Yahoo!”_ Lance cheers, and unzips his uniform in a heartbeat. He chucks off his boxers and cannonballs in, Shiro and Keith not far behind.

“Oh fuck, it’s hot.” Keith curses, waddling in waist deep. 

“It feels awesome!” Lance says, popping up and whipping his hair out of his eyes.

“Come here, you,” Shiro says affectionately, wrapping his arms from behind Lance and pulling him back down under the water. Lance’s laughs turn to bubbles before he’s pulled back up above the surface.

“Is this a date, then?” Lance asks kicking around in the water to wrap his legs around Shiro’s bare waist.

“Sure.”

 _“Yesss,_ perfect. Now we just need a mariachi band and some food.”

“Is that what you suffice for a date?”

“Dude, nothing is more romantic than the Spanish guitar.”

Keith wades through the water, parting it with his hands. He floats back and smiles, “You’ll just have to sing for us then.”

Lance squirms around in Shiro’s arms, and grins. He never expected anyone to hear him in the shower that day – but Keith and Shiro have been nothing but adamant about making him sing all the time.

Shiro brings his hands down to support beneath his thighs – the water bubbles from pool to pool, the crystals shine above them.

Lance tips his head back and breathes, voice echoing off the cave walls.

_“Do you hear me? I’m talking to you~”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm lucky im in love with my best friend ~  
> i'm lucky to have been where i have been ~

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://zanimez.tumblr.com/) yo
> 
> edit: I've gotten some awesome fanart! check it out [here!](http://lilienwolf.tumblr.com/post/149142010206/another-shirokeithlance-nsfw-pic-under-the-cut)


End file.
